The life of John Henry Cardinal Newman, based on his private journals and correspondence

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2009 with funding from

University of Toronto

http://www.archive.org/details/lifeofjohnhenr02ward

THE LIFE OF
JOHN HENRY CARDINAL NEWMAN

VOL. II

V/'V/^^ /'/'•/'

THE LIFE OF

JOHN HENRY CARDINAL NEWMAN

BASED ON HIS PRIVATE JOURNALS
AND CORRESPONDENCE

BY

WILFRID WARD

IN TWO VOLUMES
VOLUME II

WITH PORTRAITS
SECOND IMPRESSION

^J;
\

b

^

\^'-:3 '^

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON

NEW YORK, BOMBAY AND CALCUTTA

I912

CONTENTS

OF

THE SECOND VOLUME

CHAPTER.

XX. The Writing of the 'Apologia' (1864)

XXI. Catholics at Oxford (1864-1865) .

XXII. A New Archbishop (1865-1866)

XXIII. The 'Eirenicon' (1865-1866) .

XXIV. Oxford Again (1866-1867)
XXV. The Appeal to Rome (1867) .

XXVI. The Deadlock in Higher Education

XXVII. Papal Infallibility (1867-1868)

XXVIII. 'The Grammar of Assent' (1870) .

XXIX. The Vatican Council (1869-1870) .

XXX. Life at the Oratory

XXXI. After the Council (1871-1874)

XXXII. The Gladstone Controversy (1874-1878)

XXXIII. The Cardinalate (1879) .

XXXIV. Final Tasks (1880-1886) .
XXXV. Last Years (1881-1890) .

Appendices

Index

1867)

I

47

79

99

121

186
200
242
279
313
Z7i
397
433
472

512

539
593

ILLUSTRATIONS

TO

THE SECOND VOLUME

PORTRAIT (1884) {Photogravure) Frontispiece

From a Crayon Drawing by Etnmeline Deane, by permission 0/ the
Autotype Fine Art Company, Ltd.

DR. NEWMAN AND FATHER AMBROSE ST. JOHN
•HER AMBROSl
From Photographs

FATHER AMBROSE ST. JOHN ^ To face p. 80

PORTRAIT (1873) 371

Front an Engraving by Joseph Broivn

CARDINAL NEWMAN 433

Front a Painting by W. IV. Ouless, R.A., at the Oratory, BirmingJiaju

(^Reproduced by kind permission oj Messrs. Burns 6^ Oates, Ltd.,
the owners 0/ the copyright .)

GROUP PHOTOGRAPHED IN ROME, in May 1879 . . ,, 458

CARDINAL NEWMAN (about 1882) 472

From a Photograph

F.\CSIMILE OF FIRST AND LAST PAGES OF A LETTER

TO MR. WILFRID WARD, March 16, 1885 497

CARDINAL NEWMAN (1889) 512

From a Photograph by Father Anthony Pollen

LIFE

OF

CARDINAL NEWMAN

CHAPTER XX

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA* (1864)

At Christmas 1863 there appeared in Macmillan's Maga-
zine a review by Charles Kingsley of J. A. Froude's ' History
of England.' In it occurred the following passage :

' Truth for its own sake had never been a virtue with the
Roman clergy. Father Newman informs us that it need not
be, and on the whole ought not to be ; — that cunning is the
weapon which Heaven has given to the Saints wherewith to
withstand the brute male force of the wicked world which
marries and is given in marriage. Whether his notion be
doctrinally correct or not, it is, at least, historically so.'

Newman wrote to the publishers, not, he said, to ask for
reparation, but ' to draw their attention as gentlemen to a
grave and gratuitous slander.' Kingsley at once wrote to
him as follows, acknowledging the authorship of the review :

* Reverend Sir, — I have seen a letter of yours to Mr.
Macmillan in which you complain of some expressions of
mine in an article in the January number of Mactnilian's
Magazine.

'That my words were just, I believed from many pas-
sages of your writings ; but the document to which I ex-
pressly referred was one of your sermons on " Subjects of the
Day," No. XX in the volume published in 1844, and entitled
" Wisdom and Innocence."

VOL. II. B

2 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' It was in consequence of that sermon that I finally
shook off the strong influence which your writings exerted
on me, and for much of which I still owe you a deep debt of
gratitude.

' I am most happy to hear from you that I mistook (as I
understand from your letter) your meaning ; and I shall be
most happy, on your showing me that I have wronged you,
to retract my accusation as publicly as I have made it.
' I am, Reverend Sir,

Your faithful servant,

Charles Kingsley.'

The retort was obvious — Newman was not yet a
Catholic priest in 1844 when he wrote his sermon. More-
over, he wrote to Kingsley pointing out that there were
no words in the sermon expressing any such opinion as
Kingsley had ascribed to him. To this simple statement
of fact Kingsley never replied. In the course of their
correspondence, however, he said : ' the tone of your letters
makes me feel to my very deep pleasure that my opinion of
the meaning of your words is a mistaken one.' But
Kingsley's animus was naively shown in the amende
which he offered to publish.

The proposed apology ran as follows : ' Dr. Newman
has, by letter, expressed in the strongest terms, his denial
of the meaning which I have put upon his words. No man
knows the use of words better than Dr. Newman ; no man,
therefore, has a better right to define what he does, or does
not, mean by them. It only remains, therefore, for me to
express my hearty regret at having so seriously mistaken
him, and my hearty pleasure at finding him on the side of
truth, in this, or any other matter.'

Newman naturally objected to the passages stating that
' no man knows the meaning of words better than Dr.
Newman,' and that Mr. Kingsley was glad to find him ' on
the side of truth, in this, or any other matter.' Kingsley
withdrew them. But he would not change the gist of the
letter, which implied that Newman had explained away
his own words ; whereas (as Newman pointed out again)
Kingsley had not confronted him with any words at all.

Newman quoted the opinion of a friend, to whom he
showed Kingsley's amended apology, that it was insufificient.

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 3

but it appeared without further change in Macmillan's
Magazine for February, and ran as follows : ' Dr. Newman
has expressed, in the strongest terms, his denial of the
meaning I have put on his words. It only remains, there-
fore, for me to express my hearty regret at having so
seriously mistaken him.'

To the more or less apathetic onlooker this amende might
have appeared sufficient. An apology had been made, and
had been called by the man who made it, a ' hearty ' one.
But Newman judged otherwise. The apology was merely
conventional. It accepted politely Newman's disclaimer
of having meant what he seemed to mean. But the real
accusation Kingsley had to meet was that he had ascribed to
Newman views which he had never expressed at all, or could
be fairly charged with seeming to mean. Newman saw his
opportunity and pressed his argument. Kingsley declined
to do more by way of apology, and said he had done as
much as one English gentleman could expect from another.
Newman published the correspondence between them, with
the following witty caricature of Kingsley's argument :

' Mr. Kingsley begins then by exclaiming : " Oh, the
chicanery, the wholesale fraud, the vile hypocrisy, the
conscience-killing tyranny of Rome ! We have not far to
seek for an evidence of it ! There's Father Newman to
wit ; — one living specimen is worth a hundred dead ones
He a priest, writing of priests, tells us that lying is never any
harm." I interpose : " You are taking a most extraordinary
liberty with my name. If I have said this, tell me when and
where." Mr. Kingsley replies : " You said it, reverend Sir,
in a sermon which you preached when a Protestant, as vicar
of St. Mary's, and published in 1844, and I could read you a
very salutary lecture on the effects which that sermon had
at the time on my own opinion of you." I make answer :
" Oh . . . tiot, it seems, as a priest speaking of priests ; but
let us have the passage." Mr. Kingsley relaxes : " Do you
know, I like your tone. From your tone I rejoice, — greatly
rejoice, — to be able to believe that you did not mean what
you said." I rejoin : " Mean it ! I maintain I never said it,
whether as a Protestant or as a Catholic ! " Mr. Kingsley
replies : " I waive that point." I object : " Is it possible ?
What? Waive the main question? I either said it or I
didn't. You have made a monstrous charge against me —

4 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

direct, distinct, public ; you are bound to prove it as directly,
as distinctly, as publicly, or to own you can't!" "Well,"
says Mr. Kingsley, " if you are quite sure you did not say
it, I'll take your word for it, — I really will." "My word\"
I am dumb. Somehow I thought that it was my word that
happened to be on trial. The word of a professor of lying
that he does not lie ! But Mr. Kingsley reassures me. " We
are both gentlemen," he says, " I have done as much as one
English gentleman can expect from another." I begin to
see : he thought me a gentleman at the very time that he
said I taught lying on system. After all it is not I, but it
is Mr. Kingsley who did not mean what he said. Habemus
confitentcm reum. So we have confessedly come round to
this, preaching without practising ; the common theme of
satirists from Juvenal to Walter Scott. " I left Baby Charles
and Steenie laying his duty before him," says King James of
the reprobate Dalgarno ; " Oh Geordie, jingling Geordie, it
was grand to hear Baby Charles laying down the guilt
of dissimulation and Steenie lecturing on the turpitude of
incontinence." '

In spite of the extreme brilliancy of this sally it is likely
enough that the British public, with its anti-Catholic preju-
dices, would have charged Newman with hyper-sensitiveness
and ill-temper, and considered that the popular writer against
whom the sally was directed had really made ample amends
by his apology. But at this juncture there intervened a man
who was already becoming a power, by force of intellect and
character, in the world of letters. Richard Holt Hutton,
editor of the Spectator, was a Liberal in politics, until lately
a Unitarian in religion, a known admirer of Kingsley, a
sympathiser with the Liberal theology of Frederick Denison
Maurice. It was to his intervention that an able critic — the
late Mr. G. L. Craik, who well remembered the controversy
and whose theological sympathies were with Kingsley — used
confidently to ascribe the direction v/hich public opinion, in
many instances trembling in the balance, took at this moment,
and ultimately took with overwhelming force. All Hutton's
antecedents seemed to be against any unfair partiality on
Newman's behalf. But he had been for )-ears keenly alive to
spiritual genius wherever it showed itself — in Martineau, in
Maurice, as well as in Newman. He had followed Newman's
writings and career with deep interest and had been present

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 5

(as we have seen) at the King William Street lectures in
1849. Endowed with a justice of mind which only a few men
in each generation can boast, and which makes them judges
in Israel, he had an ingrained suspiciousness of the unfairness
of the English public where ' Popery ' was concerned, and
felt the need to guide it aright. He saw fully the injus-
tice of Kingsley's method. On February 20 he published in
the Spectator an estimate of the controversy, raised on that
judicial platform of thought from which the most unfailingly
effective argument proceeds. He allowed for the popular feeling
that Newman's retort was too severe, and even admitted it.
But in his fine psychological study of the two men he pointed
out a looseness of thought, a prejudice, a want of candour in
Kingsley, which were at the root both of his original offence
and of his insufficient apology, and summed up very strongly
in Newman's favour. He wrote as follows :

' Mr. Kingsley has just afforded, at his own expense, a
genuine literary pleasure to all who can find intellectual
pleasure in the play of great powers of sarcasm, by bringing
Father Newman from his retirement and showing, not only
one of the greatest of English writers, but perhaps the very
greatest master of delicate and polished sarcasm in the
English language, still in full possession of all the powers
which contributed to his wonderful mastery of that subtle and
dangerous weapon. Mr. Kingsley is a choice though perhaps
too helples.s victim for the full exercise of P'ather Newman's
powers. But he has high feeling and generous courage
enough to make us feel that the sacrifice is no ordinary one ;
yet the title of one of his books, — " Loose Thoughts for Loose
Thinkers " — represents too closely the character of his rough
but manly intellect, so that a more opportune Protestant ram
for Father Newman's sacrificial knife could scarcely have
been found ; and, finally, the thicket in which he caught him-
self was, as it were, of his own choosing, he having rushed
headlong into it quite without malice, but also quite without
proper consideration of the force and significance of his own
words. Mr. Kingsley is really without any case at all in the
little personal controversy we are about to notice ; and we
think he drew down upon himself fairly the last keen blow
of the sacrificial knife by what we must consider a very
inadequate apology for his rash statement.

' Mr. Kingsley, in the ordinary steeplechase fashion in
which he chooses not so much to think as to splash up thought

6 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

— dregs and all — (often very healthy and sometimes very
noble, but always very loose thought), in one's face, had made
a random charge against Father Newman in Maanillan's
Magazine. . . . The sermon in question, which we have care-
fully read, certainly contains no proposition of the kind to
which Mr. Kingsley alludes, and no language even so like it
as the text taken from Our Lord's own words, " Be ye wise
as serpents and harmless as doves."

'. . . We must say that the whole justice of the matter
seems to us on Dr. Newman's side, that Mr. Kingsley ought
to have said, what is obviously true, that, on examining the
sermon no passage will bear any colourable meaning at all
like that he had put upon it. And yet it is impossible not
to feel that Dr. Newman has inflicted almost more than
an adequate literary retribution on his opponent ; more than
adequate, not only for the original fault, but for the yet more
faulty want of due candour in the apology. You feel some-
how that Mr. Kingsley's little weaknesses, his inaccuracy of
thought, his reluctance to admit that he had been guilty of
making rather an important accusation on the strength of a
very loose general impression, are all gauged, probed, and
condemned by a mind perfectly imperturbable in its basis
of intellect though vividly sensitive to the little superficial
ripples of motive and emotion it scorns.'

Newman had burnt his ships, and had probably been
prepared for a strong verdict against him and in favour of so
popular a writer as Kingsley, on the part of that very anti-
Popish person, the John Bull of 1864. Hutton's was a most
seasonable and valuable intervention. By admitting and
allowing for the most obvious ground of public criticism on
Newman — the excessiveness of the castigation he had ad-
ministered— the Spectator was all the more effective in its
strong justification of Newman's main position in the con-
troversy. The article gave him keen pleasure and he v/rote
his thanks to the Spectator, which brought a generous
private letter from Hutton himself Newman replied to it as
follows :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : February 26th, 1S64.

' My dear Sir, — Your letter gave me extreme pleasure.
Though I contrive to endure my chronic unpopularity, and
though I believe it to be salutary, yet it is not in itself
welcome ; and therefore it is a great relief to me to have from

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 7

time to time such letters as yours which serve to show that,
under the surface of things, there is a kinder feeling towards
me than the surface presents.

' I ought to tell you that when I wrote my letter to the
editor of the Spectator the other day, I had only seen the
first part of your article as it was extracted in the Birming-
ham paper. . . .

' I thanked you for your article when I saw only part of
it, on the ground of its being so much more generous than
the ordinary feeling of the day allows reviewers commonly to
behave towards me. I thank you still more for it as I now
read it with its complement, — first because it is evidently
written, not at random, but critically, and secondly because it is
evidently the expression of real, earnest, and personal feeling.
How far what you say about me is correct can perhaps be
determined neither by you nor by me, but by the Searcher of
hearts alone ; but, even where I cannot follow you in your
criticism, I am sure I get a lesson from it for my serious
consideration.

* But I have said enough, and subscribe myself with
sincere goodwill to you, my dear Sir,

' Very faithfully yours,

John H. Newman.'

Kingsley, who was doubtless persuaded that his apology
to Newman was a very handsome one, and unconscious how
his own judgment was warped by his antipathy to everything
that Newman represented in his eyes, now changed his tone,
and, in a pamphlet called ' What then does Dr. Newman
mean?' fully justified the estimate Newman had formed of
his true attitude of mind — an attitude which had prevented
Newman, at the outset, from accepting an apology which he
felt to be grudging and not in the fullest sense sincere. How
deep and habitual Kingsley's feeling of animosity was, we
see from some words written while his pamphlet was in pre-
paration, to a correspondent who had called his attention to
a passage in W. G. Ward's ' Ideal of a Christian Church ' which
appeared to justify Kingsley's charge against Newman and
his friends. ' Candour,' Mr. Ward had written, ' is an in-
tellectual rather than a moral virtue, and by no means either
universally or distinctively characteristic of the saintly mind.'
If 'candour' meant 'truthfulness,' such an admission was
surely significant.

8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Kingsley replied that he was using the passage from
Ward's book in his forthcoming pamphlet, and added : ' I
am answering Newman now, and though of course I give
up the charge of conscious dishonesty, I trust to make
him and his admirers sorry that they did not leave me alone.
I have a score of more than twenty years to pay, and this is
an instalment of it' '

It is necessary for the reader to have before him
specimens of the tone and temper of Kingsley's pamphlet
that he may appreciate the effect it produced, and the pro-
vocation under which Newman considered himself justified
in writing as he subsequently did.

The general line of argument in the pamphlet may perhaps
be put thus : * Newman's words looked like the view which I
imputed to him. I have accepted his statement that he did
not so mean them. But if he did not, what does he mean?'
The reader looks in vain, however, for a passage in which
Kingsley quotes any words of Newman's which justify his ori-
ginal statement. The nearest approach to any such attempt at
justification is in his analysis of the sermon on ' Wisdom and
Innocence,' where he points out how Newman admits that
Christians have been charged with cunning, though he main-
tains that such appearances are due only to the arts of the
defenceless. ' If,' he writes, ' Dr. Newman told the world, as
he virtually does in this sermon, " I know that my conduct
looks like cunning, but it is only the arts of the defence-
less," what wonder if the world answer " No, it is what it
seems " ? '

But Mr. Kingsley was thoroughly roused. If the sermon
did not supply what he wanted, he could go further afield for
evidence. And he could make fresh charges. He continued
in a style which bears curious witness to the profound and
undiscriminating aversion to Newman's whole attitude which
lay at the root of his original attack. Passing by the ' tortu-
ous ' Tract 90, and claiming the recognition of his generosity
in so doing, he speaks of the Puseyite ' Lives of the Saints,'
edited by Newman in 1843, as witnessing to his flagrant
untruthfulness. Entirely failing to understand Newman's

' These words are quoted by Father Ryder in his Recollections ; vide infra^
P- 351-

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 9

philosophy of miracle, he speaks of those ' Lives ' as simply
deliberate perversions of historical truth. Newman's view,
it need hardly be said, was that there are certain antecedent
probabilities recognised by one who is already a Catholic,
which make the marvels handed down by tradition credible
to him as 'pious beliefs,' although they may not be histori-
cally proved. He admitted as much as Kingsley that they
could not be established by canons of evidence accepted
by those who did not grant the antecedent probabilities.
Such a view as this, whether right or wrong, is never
even glanced at by Mr. Kingsley, who treats the ' Lives '
as simply a tissue of infantile folly and untruthfulness
combined.

Kingsley recalls Newman's statement in the ' Present Posi-
tion of Catholics,' that he thinks the ' holy coat of Treves '
may be what it professes to be, and that he firmly believes that
portions of the True Cross are in Rome and elsewhere ; that
he believes in the presence of the Crib of Bethlehem in Rome ;
that he cannot withstand the evidence for the liquefaction of
Januarius' blood at Naples and the motion of the eyes of
the images of the Madonna in Italy. No one knew better
than Newman himself that, to the ordinary common-sense
Protestant Englishman, such beliefs must seem ludicrous
and childish superstitions. But Newman had very cogently
pointed out that, judged by the canons of reason apart from
the antecedent presumptions of religious minds, miracles in
Holy Writ which the Protestant Englishman never questions,
and accepts from custom and education, are also incredible.
That Jonah spent three days in the interior of a whale
is a belief not easier to justify by reason than the wonders
referred to above, and Mr. Kingsley, it was to be presumed,
accepted this miraculous narrative himself. But the whole
philosophical ground for Newman's readiness to believe is
passed by without notice by Kingsley. He throws before his
readers as beyond the reach or necessity of argument the
above avowals of folly and superstition. And he changes
his earlier charge of untruthfulness and insincerity for one of
arrant and avowed fatuity.

' How art thou fallen from Heaven,' he writes, ' O Lucifer,
son of the Morning !

lo LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' But when I read these outrages upon common sense,
what wonder if I said to myself: " This man cannot believe
what he is saying " ?

' I believe I was wrong. I have tried, as far as I can, to
imagine to myself Dr. Newman's state of mind ; and I see
now the possibility of a man's working himself into that
pitch of confusion that he can persuade himself, by what
seems to him logic, of anything whatsoever which he wishes
to believe ; and of his carrying self-deception to such per-
fection that it becomes a sort of frantic honesty in which he
is utterly unconscious, not only that he is deceiving others,
but that he is deceiving himself.

' But I must say : If this be " historic truth," what is
historic falsehood? If this be honesty, what is dishonesty?
If this be wisdom, what is folly ?

* I may be told : But this is Roman Catholic doctrine.
You have no right to be angry with Dr. Newman for be-
lieving it. I answer : This is not Roman Catholic doctrine,
any more than belief in miraculous appearances of the
Blessed Virgin, or the miracle of the Stigmata (on which
two matters I shall say something hereafter). No Roman
Catholic, as far as I am aware, is bound to believe these
things. Dr. Newman has believed them of his own free will.
He is anxious, it would seem, to show his own credulity.
He has worked his mind, it would seem, into that morbid
state in which nonsense is the only food for which it hungers.
Like the sophists of old, he has used reason to destroy
reason. I had thought that, like them, he had preserved
his own reason in order to be able to destroy that of others.
But I was unjust to him, as he says. While he tried to
destroy others' reason, he was, at least, fair enough to destroy
his own. That is all that I can say. Too many prefer the
charge of insincerity to that of insipience, — Dr. Newman
seems not to be of that number. . . . If I, like hundreds more,
have mistaken his meaning and intent, he must blame not
me, but himself If he will indulge in subtle paradoxes, in
rhetorical exaggerations ; if, whenever he touches on the ques-
tion of truth and honesty, he will take a perverse pleasure in
saying something shocking to plain English notions, he must
take the consequences of his own eccentricities.

' What does Dr. Newman mean ? He assures us so
earnestly and indignantly that he is an honest man,
believing what he says, that we in return are bound, in
honour and humanity, to believe him ; but still, — what does
he mean ? '

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 11

It would be tedious to follow Mr. Kingsley through his
many instances. They all show that Newman's views are a
sealed book to him. These views doubtless admit of expert
criticism when once they are understood. But Mr. Kingsley
does not attempt to master them. His impatience prevents
all discrimination. Thus Newman's very candid admissions
in his Lecture on the ' Religious State of Catholic Coun-
tries ' are taken as showing that Newman almost admires the
crimes of the Neapolitan thief Newman argued that a
Catholic might steal as another may steal ; this does not
make stealing in him less evil ; still, he may have faith
which the other had not. Faith is one thing, good works
another. They are separable qualities. Mr. Kingsley holds up
his hands. Further argument is indeed, he holds, useless
and unnecessary with a man who says such things as this.

' And so I leave Dr. Newman,' he concludes, ' only ex-
pressing my fear that, if he continues to " economize " and
" divide " the words of his adversaries as he has done mine,
he will run great danger of forfeiting once more his reputation
for honesty.'

Every line of this pamphlet speaks of an indignant man
who is convinced that he has much the best case in the dispute,
and who cannot bring himself to conceal his contemptuous
dislike for his opponent. Mr. Hutton, who vigilantly took
note of each move in the game, formed a very different esti-
mate from Kingsley's of the pamphlet, and of the situation.
On its appearance he again took the field, and in the course
of an article of five columns gave the following estimate of
its drift and quality :

' Mr. Kingsley replies in an angry pamphlet, which we
do not hesitate to say aggravates the original injustice a
hundredfold. Instead of quoting language of Dr. Newman's
fairly justifying his statement, he quotes everything of almost
any sort, whether having reference to casuistry, or to the
monastic system, or the theory of Christian evidences, that
will irritate,— often rightly irritate, — English taste against the
Romish system of faith, and every apology or plea of any
kind put in by Dr. Newman in favour of that faith. He
raises, in fact, as large a cloud of dust as he can round his
opponent, appeals to every Protestant prepossession against

12 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

him, reiterates that " truth is not honoured among these men
for its own sake," giving a very shrewd hint that he includes
Dr. Newman as chief amongst the number, and retires
without vindicating his assertion in the least, except so far
as to prove that there was quite enough that he disliked
or even abhorred in Dr. Newman's teaching to suggest such
an assertion to his mind, — his latent assumption evidently
being that whatever Mr. Kingsley could say in good faith
it could not have been unjustifiable for him to say. Mr.
Kingsley evidently holds it quite innocent and even praise-
worthy to blurt out raw general impressions, however
inadequately supported, which are injurious and painful to
other men, on condition only that they are his own sincere
impressions. He has no mercy for the man who will define
his thought and choose his language so subtly that the mass
of his hearers may fail to perceive his distinctions, and be
misled into a dangerous error, — because he cannot endure
making a fine art of speech. Yet he permits himself a
perfect licence of insinuation so long as these insinuations
are suggested by the vague sort of animal scent by which
he chooses to judge of other men's drift and meaning. . . .
Mr. Kingsley has done himself pure harm by this rejoinder.'

The phrase ' animal scent ' was an expressive one, and
told with great effect. It characterised mercilessly the
sheer prejudice which led to Mr. Kingsley's insinuations.

Newman felt the value of Hutton's renewed support at
this critical moment, and wrote to him again :

' The Oratory, Birmingliam : Easter Day, 1S64. Marcli 27th.

' My dear Sir, — I have read an article on Mr. Kingsley
and myself in the Spectator which I cannot help attributing
to you. Excuse me if I take a liberty in doing so. Whoever
wrote it I thank him with all my heart. I hope I shall be
never slow to confess my faults, and, if I have, while becoming
a Catholic, palliated things really wrong among Catholics in
order to make my theory of religion and my consequent duty
clearer, I am very sorry for it, — and I know I am not the
best judge of myself, — but Mr. Kingsley's charges are simply
monstrous. I can't tell till I read the article again carefully
how far I follow you in everything you say of me,— though
it is very probable I shall do so except in believing (which I
do) that I am both logically and morally right in being a
Catholic, but it is impossible not to feel that you have uttered
on the whole what I should say of myself, and to see that

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 13

you have done me a great service in doing so, as bearing an
external testimony.

' Let me on this day, after the manner of Catholics, wish
you the truest Paschale gaudiuin, and assure you that I am

' Most sincerely yours,

John H, Newman.

' P.S. — On reading this over I have some fear lest I
should incur some criticism from you in your mind on what
you seemed to think in a former instance, mock humility, —
but, if you knew me personally, I don't think you would
say so.'

But it soon proved that the goodwill towards Newman
was general in the English press. Though no other journal
showed the close knowledge of his work which Mr. Hutton
possessed, and though others fell short of the Spectator in
understanding and sympathy, respect and consideration were
general. The issue may have been doubtful so long as
Kingsley's attack had been but a brief paragraph for which
he apologised, but by his virulent pamphlet he overreached
himself

Newman saw at once that he would now have a hearing
such as had never yet been open to him for a vindication of
his whole life-work. For a moment he thought of answering
Kingsley in a course of lectures. But a little more thought
led to the plan of publishing in weekly parts an account and
explanation of his life-story. The reason for his determi-
nation to publish rather than to lecture lay in the nature of
such an account, and is expressed in the following letter to
Mr. Hope-Scott:

' Confidential. The Oratory, Birmingham : April 1 2th, 1864.

' My dear Hope-Scott, — It is curious that the plan of
lectures is one about which Ambrose (St. John) was hot, and
I had all but determined on it, but I was forced to abandon
it from the nature of my intended publication ; I have taken
a resolution, about which I shall be criticized, — yet I do it,
though with anxiety, yet with deliberation.

' Men who know me, the tip-top education of London
and far gone Liberals, will not accuse me of lying or
dishonesty — but e.g. the Brummagems, and the Evangelical
party, &c., &c., do really believe me to be a clever knave.

14 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Moreover I have never defended myself about various acts of
mine, e.g. No. 90, so I am actually publishing a history of my
opinions. Now it would have been impossible to read this out.
' I am so busy with composing that I have no time for
more. My answer will come out in numbers on successive
Thursdays, beginning with the 21st.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman

of the Oratory.'

Every day made clearer to Newman the existence of
such a state of public feeling in his regard as promised not
only attention, but even sympathy. He knew too well,
however, that a defender of the Catholic priesthood from the
charge of unstraightforwardness before such a jury as the
British public was at a very heavy disadvantage, and not the
least remarkable feature in his defence was the skill with
which, in his opening pages (now long out of print), he set
himself to counteract this adverse influence. His unfailing
insight into human motive told him that success depended
on the initial attitude of mind in his judges, and it was ex-
clusively to securing a favourable attitude that he devoted
the first fifty pages of the original ' Apologia.' > It is the
skill he shows in persuading a mixed public and ensuring its
favour which is most memorable in these pages. He had to
present to the reader a convincing picture of himself as
o-ratuitously slandered and assailed, as pleading in the face of
the bitterest prejudice, as throwing himself on the generosity
of the British public, and relying on their justice for fair play
in a contest dishonourably provoked.

He had with equally convincing pen to depict the crude,
rough, blundering, impulsive, deeply prejudiced mind of
Kingsley, to bring into view his inferiority of intellectual fibre,
and thus to win credence for his own retort.

Kingsley had chosen as the motto for his pamphlet
Newman's assertion in one of the University Sermons that in
some cases a lie is the nearest approach to truth. Newman
notes in these introductory pages the appositeness of the

' These pajjcs were Parts I. and II. of the successive numbers. Tliey were
republished only in the first edition of the Apologia, which is now very rare.
From them and from the Appendix (also out of print) I give long extracts
because they are singularly characteristic of the writer, and are, I believe,
generally unknown.

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 15

motto, for ' Mr. Kingsley's pamphlet is emphatically one of
such cases. ... I really believe that his view of me is about
as near an approach to the truth about my writings and
doings as he is capable of taking. He has done his worst
towards me, but he has also done his best' Newman de-
picts him as in this attack simply narrow-minded. His failure
to comprehend a mind unlike his own is an illustration of
a wide law : ' children do not apprehend the thoughts of
grown-up people, nor savages the instincts of civilisation.'

Against the blind contempt of Kingsley, who hesitated
between ' knavery ' and ' silliness ' as the true charge against
his antagonist, Newman levels the piercing scorn of the
wider and more penetrating mind. It is the scorn of the
civilised man, who sees and analyses the defects of barbarism,
pitted against the scorn of barbarism, that hates, fears,
and despises the civilisation which it cannot understand.
Kingsley had taken up the position of the manly English-
man, of the advocate of chivalrous generosity, against the
shifty Papist, the ' serpentine ' dealer in ' cunning and sleight-
of-hand logic' Newman not only drives his opponent from
the vantage ground, but occupies it himself, transferring to
Kingsley the reproach of a disingenuousness which sought
to poison the minds of the public and divert their gaze from
the actual issue.

Mr. Kingsley had rather grandly announced that he was
precluded ' " en hault courage " and in strict honour ' from
proving his original charge from others of Newman's writings
except the sermon on ' Wisdom and Innocence.' ' If I
thereby give him a fresh advantage in this argument,' he
added, ' he is most welcome to it. He needs, it seems to
me, as many advantages as possible.' Newman quotes these
words with the comment : ' What a princely mind ! How
loyal to his rash promise ; how delicate towards the subject
of it ; how conscientious in his interpretation of it ! '

But what was the actual exhibition of noble straight-
forwardness which the advocate of ' hault courage ' provided ?
A whole mass of insinuation without any substantiation of
the original charge of untruthfulness ; and a re-hash of such
conventional imputations against the Papist as might stir up
popular bigotry to his detriment.

1 6 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' When challenged,' Newman continues, ' he cannot bring
a fragment of evidence in proof of his assertion, and he is
convicted of false witness by the voice of the world. Well,
I should have thought that he had now nothing whatever
more to do. Vain man ! he seems to make answer, what
simplicity in you to think so ! If you have not broken one
commandment, let us see whether we cannot convict you of
the breach of another. If you are not a swindler or forger,
you are guilty of arson or burglary. By hook or by crook
you shall not escape. Are you to suffer or /? What does
it matter to you who are going off the stage to receive a
slight additional daub upon a character so deeply stained
already ? But think of me, — the immaculate lover of truth,
so observant (as I have told you, p. 8) of " hault courage "
and " strict honour," and (aside) — and not as this publican —
do you think I can let you go scot free instead of myself?
No ; " noblesse oblige." Go to the shades, old man, and boast
that Achilles sent you thither.'

This method of wholesale insinuation and imputation was
not, Newman contended, fair play as Englishmen understand
it. And, worse still, was the attempt to discount before-
hand every detailed reply by repeating in aggravated form
the charge of shiftiness and untruthfulness, and coupling
Newman's method with that of Roman casuists whom John
Bull abominated.

* He is down upon me,' the ' Apologia ' continues, ' with the
odious names of " St. Alfonso da Liguori," and " Scavini "
and " Neyraguet " and " the Romish moralists," and their
" compeers and pupils," and I am at once merged and
whirled away in the gulf of notorious quibblers and hypo-
crites and rogues.'

And the writer proceeds to cite from Mr. Kingsley's
pamphlet such sentences as the following :

' I am henceforth in doubt and /mr,' Mr. Kingsley writes,
' as much as any honest man can be, concerning every word
Dr. Newman may write. How can I tell that I shall not
be dupe of some cunning equivocation^ of one of the three kinds
laid down as permissible by the Blessed Alfonso da Liguori
and his pupils, even when confirmed by an oath, because
"then we do not deceive our neighbour, but allow him

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1S64) 17

to deceive himself? ... It is admissible, therefore, to use
words and sentences which have a double signification and
leave the hapless hearer to take which of them he may
choose." W/tat proof have /, then, that by " Mean it ? I
never said it ! "' Dr. Newman does not signify, " I did not say-
it, but I did mean it " ? ' ^

It is this throwing doubt beforehand on every word which
the accused might say in self-defence which Newman called
' poisoning the wells.'

' If I am natural he will tell them : " Ars est celare
artem " ; if I am convincing he will suggest that I am an
able logician ; if I show warmth, I am acting the indignant
innocent ; if I am calm, I am thereby detected as a smooth
hypocrite ; if I clear up difficulties I am too plausible and
perfect to be true. The more triumphant are my statements,
the more certain will be my defeat.'

' It is this,' he writes later on, ' which is the strength of the
case of my accuser against me ; not his arguments in them-
selves which I shall easily crumble into dust, but the bias of
the court. It is the state of the atmosphere ; it is the vibra-
tion all around which will more or less echo his assertion of
my dishonesty ; it is that prepossession against me which
takes it for granted that, when my reasoning is convincing,
it is only ingenious, and that when my statements are
unanswerable there is always something put out of sight
or hidden in my sleeve ; it is that plausible, but cruel,
conclusion to which men are so apt to jump, that when much
is imputed something" must be true, and that it is more likely
that one should be to blame than that many should be
mistaken in blaming him ; — these are the real foes which I
have to fight, and the auxiliaries to whom my accuser makes
his court.

' Well, I must break through this barrier of prejudice
against me, if I can ; and I think I shall be able to do so.
When first I read the pamphlet of Accusation, I almost
despaired of meeting effectively such a heap of misrepre-
sentation and such a vehemence of animosity. . . .'^

Yet the defence, Newman maintains, must be made. The
charge of untruthfulness is pre-eminently one in which a man
must and can put himself right with his fellow-men.

* Mankind has the right,' he continues, ' to judge of
truthfulness in the case of a Catholic, as in the case of

' Apolooia (original edition), pp. 22-23. ''' ^^^^- P* 44-

VOL. II. , C

1 8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

a Protestant, or an Italian, or of a Chinese. I have never
doubted that in my hour, in God's hour, my avenger will
appear and the world will acquit me of untruthfulness, even
though it be not while I live.

' Still more confident am I of such eventual acquittal,
seeing that my judges are my own countrymen. I think,
indeed. Englishmen the most suspicious and touchy of
mankind ; I think them unreasonable and unjust in their
seasons of excitement ; but I had rather be an Englishman
(as in fact I am) than belong to any other race under
Heaven. They are as generous as they are hasty and
burly; and their repentance for their injustice is greater
than their sin.' '

As to the form of the reply, Newman explains that a
very brief reflection told him that a mere detailed meeting of
Kingsley's random charges would be inadequate. The man
Newman was suspected ; a false picture of a sly and untruth-
ful casuist had been presented to the public. For this man to
reply was waste of breath and ink. A true picture must be
substituted, — a true account of life, motive, career. Another
Newman must be placed before the English nation — a
Newman whom it would trust.

'My perplexity did not last half an hour. I recognised
what I had to do though I shrank from both the task and the
exposure which it would entail. I must, I said, give the true
key to my whole life ; I must show what I am that it may
be seen what I am not, and that the phantom may be
extinguished which gibbers instead of me. I wish to be
known as a living man, and not as a scarecrow which is
dressed up in my clothes. False ideas may be refuted
indeed by argument, but by true ideas alone are they
expelled. I will vanquish, not my accuser, but my judges.' ^

The first and second parts of the ' Apologia,' from which
the above extracts are made, appeared on April 21 and 28.
Sir Frederick Rogers — the friend whose advice generally
represented sound worldly judgment in Newman's eyes
— wrote on reading the first part with some misgiving as
to its effect on the public, and the probable effect of what was
to follow, if it were in the same strain, as indicative of over-
great personal sensitiveness. In particular he deprecated the

' Apologia, p. 30. ^ Ibid. p. 4S.

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 19

element of sarcasm and the personal strictures on Kingsley
which characterised the first part.
Newman's reply is as follows :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : April 22nd, 1864.

' My dear Rogers, — Your letter has given me a good deal
of anxiety as being the sort of judgment of a person at a
distance. I understood it to say that I ought to have let
well alone, and that, (knowing I had got the victory), I have
shown a savageness which will provoke a reaction. I had
considered all this before I began.

' However, I am now in for it ; and, if I am wrong, have
set myself to the most trying work which I ever had to do
for nothing. During the writing and reading of my Part 3,
I could not get on from beginning to end for crying. , . .

* However, I am in for it and I am writing against time.
I have no intention of saying another hard word against
Mr. Kingsley, That is all I can do now if I have been too
severe. I am in for it, — and must go through it.

' Yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

Old Oxford friends had to be consulted in order to ensure
accuracy in the narration of the events of the Movement.
Copeland — who edited the later editions of the Parochial
Sermons — had, as we have seen, been one of the first to
resume friendly relations with Newman after the breach of
1845. And now by his advice Newman wrote to an
older and dearer friend — R. W. Church, afterwards Dean of
St. Paul's — for help which was willingly accorded.

' Private. The Oratory, Birmingham : April 23rd, 1864.

' My dear Church, — Copeland encourages me to write to
you. I am in one of the most painful trials in which I have
ever been in my life and I think you can help me.

* It has alwax's been on my mind that perhaps some day
I should be called on to defend my honesty while in the
Church of England. Of course there have been endless hits
against me in newspapers, reviews and pamphlets, — but,
even though the names of the writers have come out and
have belonged to great men, they have been anon}'mous
publications, — or else a sentence or two on some particular
point has been the whole. But I have considered that, if
anyone with his name made an elaborate charge on me, I

20 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

was bound to speak. When Maurice in the Times a year
ago attacked me, I answered him at once.

* But I have thought it very unlikely that anyone would
do so, — and then, I am so indolent that, unless there is an
actual necessity, I do nothing. In con.<=equence now, when
the call comes on me, I am quite unprepared to meet it. I
know well that Kingsley is a furious foolish fellow, — but he
has a name, — nor is it anything at all to me that men think
I got the victory in the Correspondence several months ago, —
that was a contest of ability, — but now he comes out with a
pamphlet bringing together a hodge podge of charges against
me all about dishonesty. Now friends who know me say :
" Let him alone, — no one credits him," but it is not so. This
very town of Birmingham, of course, knows nothing of me,
and his pamphlet on its appearance produced an effect. The
evangelical party has always spoken ill of me, and the pam-
phlet seems to justify them. The Roman Catholic party
does not know me ; — the fathers of our school boys, the
priests, &c., &c., whom I cannot afford to let think badly of
me. Therefore, thus publicly challenged, I must speak, and,
unless I speak strongly, men won't believe me in earnest.

* But now I have little more to trust to than my memory.
There are matters in which no one can help me, viz. those
which have gone on in my own mind, but there is also a
great abundance of public facts, or again, facts witnessed by
persons close to me, which I may have forgotten. I fear of
making mistakes in dates, though I have a good memory for
them, and still more of making bold generalizations without
suspicion that they are not to the letter tenable.

'Now you were so much with me from 1840 to 1843 or
even 1845, that it has struck me that you could, (if you saw
in proof what I shall write about those years), correct any
fault of fact which you found in my statement. Also, you
might have letters of mine to throw light on my state of
mind, and this by means of contemporaneous authority.
And these are the two matters I request of you as regards
the years in question.

' The worst is, I am so hampered for time. Longman
thought I ought not to delay, so I began, and, therefore, of
necessity in numbers. What I have to send you is not yet
written. It won't be much in point of length.

' I need hardly say that I shall keep secret anything you
do for me and the fact of my having applied to you.

' Yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 21

Church welcomed warmly the letter of his old friend, and
Newman wrote again :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : April 26th, 1864.

' My dear Church, — Your letter is most kind, but I am not
going to take all the assistance you offer.

' As you say, it is almost an advantage in me not to take
more time. But I am not writing a History of the Movement,
nor arguing out statements.

' Longman agreed with me that, if I did anything, I must
do it at once. Also that a large book would not be read.
For these two reasons I have done it as it is. I heartily
wish I had begun a week later. But Longman particularly
insisted that, when once I had begun, I should not intermit
a week.

' When you see it as a whole you will not wonder at my
saying that, had I delayed a month, I should not have done
it at all. It has been a great misery to me.

' I only want to state things as they happened, and I
doubt not that your general impressions will be enough.

' The chief part I wanted you for is the dullest part of the
whole, — the sort of views with which I wrote No. 90. I am
not directly defending it ; I am explaining my view of it.

' Then again, I fear you do not know my secret feelings
when my unsettlement first began. But I shall state
external generalized acts of mine, as I believe them to be,
and you can criticize them.

' I have no idea whatever of giving any point to what I am
writing, but that I did not act dishonestly. And I want to
state the stages in my change and the impediments which
kept me from going faster. Argument, I think, as such, will
not come in, — though I must state the general grounds of my
change.

' Your notion of coming to m^ is particularly kind. But I
could not wish it now, even if you could. I am at my work
from morning to night. I thank God my health has not
suffered. What I shall produce will be little, but parts I write
so many times over.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. New^ian.'

Proofs were despatched on April 29 with a brief note
concluding thus :

' Excuse my penmanship. My fingers have been walking
nearly twenty miles a day.'

22 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

John Keble was also consulted — though not at the
outset ' :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : April 27/64.

' My very dear Keble, — Thank you for your affectionate
letter. When you see part of my publication, you will wonder
how I ever could get myself to write it. Well, I could not,
except under some very great stimulus. I do not think I
could write it, if I delayed it a month. And yet I have for
years wished to write it as a duty. I don't know what people
will think of me, or what will be the effect of it — but I wished
to tell the truth, and to leave the matter in God's hands.

' Don't be disappointed that there is so little in what
I send you by this post about Hurrell. I have attempted
(presumptuously) to draw him in an earlier Part ; it has
been seen by William Froude and Rogers. You will not
see it till it is published. It is too late.

' I am writing from morning to night, hardly having time
for my meals. I write this during dinner time. This will go
on for at least 3 weeks more.

' I am glad you and Mrs. Keble have found the winter so
mild, for it has been very trying with us.

'I dare say, when it comes to the point, you will find
nothing you have to say as to what I send you — but I am
unwilling not to have eyes upon it of those who recollect
the history. You will be startled at my mode of writing.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H, Newman.'

Each part of the ' Apologia ' was received with acclaim
as it appeared in weekly numbers. Father Ryder, already a
priest and inmate of the Oratory in 1864, told me that he
remembered on several occasions seeing Newman while in
course of writing. The plan of the book was first sketched.
The principal heads of narrative and argument and the
general plan of the work were written up in their order in
large letters on the wall opposite to the desk at which he
was doing his work.

' 'What I shall ask Keble (as well as you) to look at,' he writes to Copeland
on April 19, 'is my sketch from (say) 1833 to 1840 — but, mind, you will be
disappointed — it is not a history of the Movement, hut of me. It is an egotistical
matter from beginning to end. It is to prove that I did not act dishonestly.
I have doubts whether any one could supply instead what I have to say — but,
when you see it, you will see what a trial it is. In writing I kept bursting into
tears — and, as I read it to St. John, I could not get on from beginning to end.
I am talking of part 3.'

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) ' 23

* The " Apologia," writes Father Ryder, ' was a great
crisis in Father Newman's life. It won him the heart of the
country which he has never lost since, and bespoke for him
an enthusiastic reception for all he might write afterwards.
Compare the niggard praise of the Times in its reviews
of the volumes on University subjects with the accord given
to post-' Apologia " writings ! The effort of writing the
weekly parts was overpowering. On such occasions he
wrote through the night, and he has been found with his
head in his hands crying like a child over the, to him, well-
nigh impossibly painful task of public confession :

* Tal su quell' alma il cumulo

Delle memorie scese.
Oh ! quante volte ai poster!

Narrar se stesso imprese,
E sulle eterne pagine

Cadde la stanca man ! '

'People could not resist one who, after having utterly
discomfited his accuser, took them so simply and quietly into
his confidence.'

Newman's letters while he was writing the several parts
show at once his scrupulous accuracy and refusal to scamp
his work and the overwhelming pressure which the appear-
ance of weekly parts involved. For facts he relied mainly on
the testimony of Church and Rogers — both Anglicans, who
would be the last to give them a Romeward colour. His
loyalty and his chivalrous scruples in thus using their testi-
mony appear in the course of the following letters, which
help us to form the picture of these weeks of constant
strain :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : May 1st, 1S64.

' My dear Rogers, — Thank you for the trouble you have
been at. It has been very satisfactory to have your correc-
tions and I have almost entirely adopted them. I suppose I
shall send you by this post down to about 1839-40, and then
I shall stop. Church will look at the part about No. 90
which ends that portion of the history. But I am dreadfully
hurried. That portion is simply to be out of my hands next
Friday. Longman would not let me delay, but I can't be
sorry, for I really do not think I could possibly have
got myself to write a line except under strict compulsion.
I have now been for five weeks at it, from morning to

' See Manzoni's poem, In Morte di Napoleonc.

24 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

night, and I shall have three weeks more. It is not much in
bulk, but I have to write over and over again from the neces-
sity of digesting and compressing.

' I sincerely wish only to state facts, and may truly say
that it, and nothing else, has been my object. So far as my
character is connected with the fact of my conversion I have
wished to do a service to Catholicism,— but in no other way.
I say this because my friends here think that the upshot of
the whole tells against Anglicanism ; but I am clear that I
have no such intention, and cannot at all divine what people
generally will say about me. I say all this in fairness, — it is
what has made me delicate in applying to Anglican friends.

* Thanks for your offer of my letters, but I have not time
for them.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

'The Oratory, Birmingham : May 2nd, 1864.

' My dear Church, — Many thanks for the trouble you have
taken, the result of which is most satisfactory to me.

'Your letters will be of great use to me judging by the
first I opened. I wished to write my sketch drawn up from
my own memory first, and then I shall compare it with your
letters. I have not begun Part 5 yet, which is from 1839
to 1845 (except the No. 90 matter). If possible I shall wish to
trouble you with the slips on what happened upon No. 90, —
I mean, in order that you may say whether you have anything
to say against it.

' I am in some anxiety lest I should be too tired to go on ;
but I trust to be carried through. I think I shall send you a
slip of Part 4 to-night, but it is no great matter. It is in
like manner, — I want your general impressions.

* I shall not dream of keeping for good the letters which
you have sent me. I want you to have them that you may
not forget me.

' Don't suppose I shall say one word unkind to the Church
of England, at least in my intentions. My friends tell me
that, as a whole, what I have written is unfavourable to
Anglicanism, — that may be, according to their notions, — for
I simply wrote to state facts, and I can truly say, and never
will conceal, that I have no wish at all to do an)'thing against
the Establishment while it is a body preaching dogmatic
truth, as I think it docs at present.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John M. Newman.'

THE WRITING OF THE ' APOLOGIA ' (1864) 25

A letter of sympathetic interest from Hope-Scott after the

appearance of the Second Part was as balm to a wounded

spirit, and a sedative to racked nerves. It brought grateful

thanks :

•The Oratory, Birmingham : May 2nd, 1864.

* My dear Hope-Scott, — What good angel has led you to
write to me ? It is a great charity.

' I never have been in such stress of brain and such pain
of heart, — and I have both trials together. Say some good
prayers for me. I have been writing without interruption
of Sundays since Easter Monday — five weeks — and I have at
least three weeks more of the same work to come. I have
been constantly in tears, and constantly crying out with
distress. I am sure I never could say what I am saying in
cold blood, or if I waited a month ; and then the third great
trial and anxiety, lest I should not say well what it is so
important to say. Longman said I must go on without break
if it was to succeed, — but, as I have said, I could iiothdiWQ done
it if I had delayed.

' I am writing this during dinner-time, — I feel your kind-
ness exceedingly.

* Ever yours most affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

Newman's diary tells us that while working at Part 3 he
wrote one day for sixteen hours at a stretch. The record
is reached in Part 5, and given in this entry : ' At my
" Apologia " for 22 hours running.' June 2 saw the end of
the narrative and the publication of the Seventh Part. The
Appendix remained, for which he was allowed a fortnight by
the publishers. He was not at first confident of financial
success. ' As to my gaining from my book,' he wrote to
Miss Holmes, ' that's to be seen. The printing expenses will
be enormous. I should not wonder if they were ;^200. I
dreamed last night that they were £700 and ;^200 besides. But
you must not suppose the matter is on my mind, for it isn't'

The book was, as I have said, very carefully planned to
do its work of persuasion. The first part was a pamphlet of
only 27 pages. It was entitled, ' Mr. Kingsley's Method
of Disputation.' As the reader will have seen from the ex-
tracts given above, it sustained the note of brilliant banter
and repartee which had been so effective in the previous
pamphlet. It was an immensely amusing squib which all

26 IJFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

the world could and did enjoy and could read in half an
hour or less. The second part also, on the ' True Method of
Meeting Mr. Kingsley,' was of similar length and almost
as light in manner and quality. Then the reader, whom
these two parts had won by their candour and brilliancy,
and who might be assumed to be in the best of humours, was
treated to fifty pages of autobiography written with all the
simplicity and beauty of style which the writer had at his
command. The quantity then grew as the writer felt sure
of his public. Part 4 ran to seventy pages, parts 5 and 6
each to eighty pages.

All that was written — except the first two parts, from
which I have already given several extracts, and the Appen-
clix — is contained in the current edition of the ' Apologia,'
which is probably known to all readers of the present book.
But a word must be added respecting the Appendix, in
which he replies in detail to Kingsley's pamphlet and
enumerates the famous ' blots ' in his arguments, which he
humorously brings up to the exact number of the Thirty-nine
Articles. Its place in the dramatic scheme of the work must
be understood. Parts i and 2 were, as we have seen, devoted
to winning the confidence of the reader and his sympathetic
attention for the narrative as a whole. Parts 3, 4, 5,6, and 7
crave the narrative of Newman's life. At the end of this it
could safely be assumed that the reader to whom Newman
had criven his whole confidence, and presented the picture of
a life which so keen a critic of his conclusions as J. A. Froude
declared to be absolutely devoted to finding and following
the truth, would have little patience with Kingsley's crudely
offensive charges and misrepresentations. These are accord-
ingly enumerated and answered in the Appendix one by
one, — often curtly, with peremptoriness, indignantl}', almost
tartly. Newman could do this with confidence of success at
the end of his work. To have confined himself to such a
method or to have taken this tone earlier would have been
to run a risk. ' Here are two reverend gentlemen in a
passion — there is little to choose between them,' might have
been the retort from the public. It is noteworthy that,
although this Appendix contains some brilliant writing,
Newman considered that the justification for its sarcastic

I

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 27

tone ceased after the occasion was past : and he omitted it in
later editions of the ' Apologia.'

The following is the text of the first seven * blots ' :

' My Sermon on " The Apostolical Christian," being the
19th of "Sermons on Subjects of the Day."

' This writer says : " What Dr. Newman means by
Christians ... he has not left in doubt " ; and then, quoting
a passage from this Sermon which speaks of the " humble
monk and holy nun " being " Christians after the very
pattern given us in Scripture," he observes, " This is his
definition of Christians " — p. 9.

' This is not the case. I have neither given a definition
nor implied one nor intended one ; nor could I, either now
or in 1843-4, or at any time, allow of the particular definition
he ascribes to me. As if all Christians must be monks or
nuns !

' What I have said is that monks and nuns are patterns
of Christian perfection ; and that Scripture itself supplies
us with this pattern. Who can deny this ? Who is bold
enough to say that St. John Baptist, who, I suppose, is a
Scripture character, is not a pattern-monk ? and that Mary,
who " sat at Our Lord's Feet," was not a pattern-nun ? And
Anna, too, "who served God with fastings and prayers
night and day " ? Again, what is meant but this by St. Paul's
saying : " It is good for a man not to touch a woman " ?
and, when speaking of the father or guardian of a young girl :
" He that giveth her in marriage doth well, but he that
giveth her not in marriage doth better " ? And what does
St. John mean but to praise virginity when he says of
the hundred and forty-four thousand on Mount Sion : " These
are they which were not defiled with women for they are
virgins " ? And what else did Our Lord mean when He said :
" There be eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for
the Kingdom of Heaven's sake. He that is able to receive
it, let him receive it " ?

' He ought to know his logic better. I have said that
" monks and nuns find their pattern in Scripture " ; he
adds : therefore I hold all Christians are monks and nuns.

' This is Blot one.

' Now then for Blot two.

' " Monks and nuns are the only perfect Christians. . . .
what more ? " — p. 9.

' A second fault in logic. I said no more than that
monks and nuns were perfect Christians ; he adds, therefore

28 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

" monks and nuns are the only perfect Christians." Monks
and nuns are not the only perfect Christians ; I never
thought so or said so now or at any other time.

'1*. 42. " In the Sermon . . , monks and nuns are spoken
of as the only true Bible Christians." This again is not the
case. What I said is that " monks and nuns are Bible
Christians ": it does not follow, nor did I mean, that " all Bible
Christians arc monks and nuns." Bad logic again. Blot three.

' My Sermon on " Wisdom & Innocence," being the
20th of " Sermons on Subjects of the Day."

' This writer says (p. 8) about my Sermon 20 : " By the
world appears to be signified especially the Protestant public
of these realms."

' He also asks (p. 14), " Why was it preached ? ... to
insinuate that the admiring young gentlemen who listened
to him stood to their fellow-countrymen in the relation of
the early Christians to the heathen Romans ? or that Queen
Victoria's Government was to the Church of England what
Nero's or Diocletian's was to the Church of Rome? It may
have been so."

' May, or may not ; it wasn't. He insinuates what, not
even with his little finger does he attempt to prove. B\ot/our.

' He asserts (p. 9) that I said in the Sermon in question
that " Sacramental Confession and the Celibacy of the Clergy
are notes of the Church." And, just before, he puts the
word " notes " in inverted commas as if it was mine. That
is, he garbles. It is not mine. Blot Jivt\

' He says that I " de^ne what I mean by the Church in
two ' notes ' of her character." I do not define or dream of
defining.

' He says that I teach that the Celibacy of the Clergy
enters into the dcfinitiofi of the Church. I do no such thing ;
that is the blunt truth. Define the Church by the celibacy
of the clergy ! why, let him read i Tim. iii. : there he will
find that bishops and deacons are spoken of as married.
How, then, could I be the dolt to say or imply that the
celibacy of the clergy was a part of the definition of the
Church ? Blot six.

' And again (p. 42), " In the Sermon a celibate clergy
is made a note of the Church." Thus the untruth is repeated.
Blot seven'

The Appendix was published on June 25, and at last the
long labour was completed. ' I never had such a time,' he

THE WRITING OF THE ' APOLOGIA ' (1864) 29

wrote to Keble from Rednal, ' both for hard work and for
distress of mind. But it is thank God now over, and I
am come here (where we have our burying ground) for a Httle
quiet.'

Then came real calm, rest, peace — the sense of triumph
so long denied ; the acclaim for the defender of the priesthood,
and sympathy from his fellow-Catholics so long withheld ;
praise, too, most welcome of all, from ecclesiastical authority,
prayers and thanksgivings from the Sisters of the Dominican
Order at Stone — the ' Sisters of Penance ' as they were called
— and along with it all the artist's keen satisfaction, almost
physical pleasure, in good work done and the response to it
in support and recognition.

The following letters to the Dominican Sisters and to
Henry Wilberforce were written after the Appendix was
published and the work completed :

To Mother Imelda Poole, Prioress of
St. Dominic's Convent, Stone.

' Rednal ; June 2Sth, 1864.

'My dear Sister Imelda, — I am always puzzled about
your proper title ; therefore you must not suppose that it is
any wilful neglect of propriety if I am in fault, — I know I am,
but cannot quite set myself right.

' We all said Mass for the Sisters of Penance on St.
Catherine's day, but I was far too busy to write and tell you
so. I never had such a time, and once or twice thought I
was breaking down. I kept saying : " I am in for it." So I
was, — I could not get out of it except by getting through it,
— and again, I simply stood fast and could not get on and
was almost in despair. I knew what I had written would not
do, and, though every hour was valuable to me, I sat thinking
and could not get on. At other times the feeling was, as I
expressed it to those around me, as if I were ploughing in
very stiff clay. It was moving on at the rate of a mile an
hour, when I had to write and print and correct a hundred
miles by the next day's post. It has been nothing but the
good prayers of my friends which has brought me through,
and now I am quite tired out ; but, that I should have written
the longest book I ever wrote in ten weeks, without any
sort of preparation or anticipation, and not only written, but
printed and corrected it, is so great a marvel that I do not
know how to be thankful enousfh.

30 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' And now thanking you for your letter and all your good
prayers for me and mine,
' I am,

Ever yours affectionately in Christ,

John H. Newman.'

To Mother Margaret Hallahan, Provincial of
THE Dominicans.

' Rednal : June 25th, 1864.

' My dear Mother Margaret, — I am tired down to my
hand, so that I cannot write without pain, but I cannot delay
longer with any comfort to myself to answer your letter on
St. Philip's day — a sad day and season it has been to me, —
Easter-tide, Month of Mary, and the great Feasts included in
the three months. I have been collecting materials, writing,
correcting proof and revise, from morning till night, and
once through the night ; but, when once I was in for it, there
was no help. My publisher would not hear of breach of
promise, and my matter would grow under my hands, and
Thursday would come round once a week, — so I was like a
man who had fallen overboard and had to swim to land,
and found the distance he had to go greater and greater.
At last I am ashore and have crawled upon the beach
and there I lie ; but I should not have got safe, I know,
but for the many good prayers which have been offered
for me.

* I so much wished to write to you on St. Catherine's day ;
— we all said Mass for you and yours according to our
engagement.

' I cannot be thankful enough for the great mercies which
have been shown me, and I trust they are a pledge that God
will be good to me still.

' Of course you have seen the great recompense I have
had for so many anxieties, in the Bishop's letter to me.

' Begging your good prayers,

I am, my dear Mother Margaret,

Yours affectionately in Christ,

John H. Newman.'

' I never had such a time of it,' he adds to another of the
Dominican sisters. ' When I was at Oxford I have twice
written a pamphlet in a night, and once in a da\', but now I
had writing and printing upon me at once, and I have done
a book of 562 pages all at a heat ; but with so much
suffering, such profuse crying, such long spells of work —

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 31

sometimes sixteen hours, once twenty-two hours at once, —
that it is a prodigious, awful marvel that I have got through
it and that I am not simply knocked up by it.'

It is difficult to recover at this distance of time evidence
which will give the reader a thoroughly adequate idea of the
change in Newman's position before the English world
effected by the ' Apologia.' There is the recollection of
many of us, fortified by incontestable tradition. There are
Newman's own letters and diaries, which bear witness to
the effect of this change on his own spirits and hopes for
the future. So much of the evidence, however, as consisted
in the Newman-Kingsley controversy being the topic of the
hour in clubs and drawing-rooms, and in the revival at this
time of the almost lost tradition of Newman's greatness, can
only live adequately in the recollection of the dwindling
number who remember those days.

But litera scripta vianet ; and enough proof of the general
fact, if not adequate evidence of its extent, remains in the
organs of public opinion. Newman had for years abstained
from any writing that could be called ' popular.' His extra-
ordinary power of rousing public interest by literary brilliancy
was habitually held in check by the stern repressive con-
science which forbade display and urged him to do simply
the work of the day which came in his way. Once,
thirteen years earlier, conscience had bidden him let loose
his powers of wit and sarcasm — in the lectures on the
' Present Position of Catholics.' In these lectures he served
the good cause by giving full play to his more popular and
telling literary gifts. And now again, when Kingsley had
attacked the Catholic priesthood as untruthful and as slaves
of a repressive authority, his conscience allowed — nay, bade
— him to do his best, not only in argument, but in that
enterprise of arresting public attention which so immensely
enhanced the effect of his reply. And when once his
scrupulous conscience permitted it, few people could sway
the English mind with more success. The brilliant dialogue
with Kingsley which he invented, and which has already been
quoted, was the first step — admirably judged and planned.
Its wit and its brevity secured its reproduction throughout the

32 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Press of the kingdom. It fixed all eyes on the combatants.
What mattered it that at first it was welcomed only as a
brilliant sally with no serious outcome? It gained attention,
and, in the circumstances, that was everything. That
attention made the ' Apologia ' which followed not a work
to be read only by the serious few with admiration and
profit — like the ' Lectures on Anglican Difficulties,' the ' Idea
of a University,' the ' Historical Sketches ' — but a public event
for all England.

Directly Newman published, in February, his witty sum-
mary of the correspondence, all the newspapers which were
most read in those days took it up. The Spectator of course
applauded it ; the Saturday Reviezv (February 27) declared
that ' Since the days of Bentley and Boyle there has not
appeared so lively a controversy.'

Other papers followed suit.

'Famous sport,' wrote a critic in the Athenceum. ' Of all
the diversions of our dining and dancing season, that of a
personal conflict is ever the most eagerly enjoyed. How we
flock to hear a "painful discussion"! How we send to the
library for a volume that is too personal to have been
published ! And how briskly we gather round a brace of
reverend gentlemen when the prize for which they contend
is which of the two shall be considered as the father of
lies!'

A ring, ever increasing in number, was formed round
the reverend combatants, and, having come to stare and
cheer, the spectators had perforce to listen to the words of
deep moment and intense pathos which Newman ultimately
addressed to them.

While everyone, then, was enjoying the sport, and on the
qui vive looking out for Newman's next thrust in the duel,
the ' Apologia ' made its appearance in weekly parts — this
mode of publication immensely helping its popularity and
influence. For the weekly pamphlet was devoured by many
who would have regarded the book as too serious an under-
taking if it had been presented to them all at once. It
awoke from the dead the great memory of John Henry
Newman whom the English world at large appeared to have
forgotten. Those from whom the spell of his presence and

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 33

words, felt in their youth at Oxford, had never passed away,
now spoke out to a generation which knew him not.

At that time cultivated public opinion was perhaps better
represented by the Saturday Review than by any other
journal. And the note struck by the Saturday on this sub-
ject when it reviewed the book as a whole, was echoed
almost universally.

* A loose and off-hand, and, we may venture to add, an
unjustifiable imputation, cast on Dr. Newman by a popular
writer, more remarkable for vigorous writing than vigorous
thought,' wrote the Saturday reviewer, ' has produced one
of the most interesting works of the present literary age.
Dr. Newman is one of the finest masters of language, his
logical powers are almost unequalled, and, in one way or
other, he has influenced the course of English thought more
perhaps than any of his contemporaries. If we add to
this the peculiar circumstances of his reappearance in print,
the sort of mystery in which, if he has not enveloped him-
self, he has been shrouded of late years, the natural curiosity
which has been felt as to the results on such a mind of
the recent progress of controversy and speculation and the
lower interest which always attaches to autobiographies and
confessions and personal reminiscences, we find an aggregate
of unusual sources of interest in such a publication.'

The Times — then under Delane's management and an
immense power — which had for many years paid little heed
to Newman's writings, if it did not rise quite to the enthu-
siasm of the Saturday or the Spectator^ did not fall far behind
them.

The Times, the Saturday, and the Spectator were the
leaders, and the bulk of the Press followed the tone they
had set. There was immense quantity of notice as well as
high quality. A writer in the Ckuj-ch Review spoke of ' the
almost unparalleled interest that has been excited by the
" Apologia." ' It was, of course, hotly attacked, but one very
significant fact was that some of the most vehement attacks
— such as those of Dr. Irons and Mr. Meyrick — recognised to
the full both the injustice of Kingsley's personal assault and
the greatness of the man whom he assailed. The loss of
influence which had so deeply depressed Newman, the sense
that he was speaking to deaf or inattentive ears, passed for
VOL. II. D

34 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

ever. In his brochure addressed to Newman himself, and en-
titled, * Isn't Kingsley right after all ? ' Mr. Meyrick's opening
words bore testimony to the wave of popular applause which
the appearance of the ' Apologia ' had brought with it.
' All England has been laughing with you,' he wrote, ' and
those who knew you of old have rejoiced to see you once
more come forth like a lion from his lair, with undiminished
strength of muscle, and they have smiled as they watched
you carry off the remains of Mr. Charles Kingsley (no
mean prey), lashing your sides with your tail, and growling
and muttering as you retreat into your den.'

' As a specimen of mental analysis, extended over a
whole lifetime,' wrote Dr. Irons, 'the" Apologia" is probably
without a rival. St. Augustine's Confessions are a purely
religious retrospect ; Rousseau's are philosophical ; Dr.
Newman's psychological. One might almost attribute to
him a double personality. The mental power, the strange
self-anatorny, the almost cold, patient review of past affec-
tions, anxieties, and hopes, are alike astonishing. The ex-
amination is not a post-mortem, for there appear colour,
light, and consciousness in the subject ; it is not a vivisec-
tion, for there is no quivering, even of a nerve.'

Not only the literary and theological world devoured the
weekly parts of the ' Apologia,' but the men of science read
it with great and wondering interest. The passages dealing
with probable evidence as the basis of certitude — a subject
on which his views were set forth more precisely in the
' Grammar of Assent ' — especially exercised them.

' I travelled with Sir C. Lyell the other day to London, on
his return from the British Association meeting at Bath,'
writes William Froude to Newman, ' and without my lead-
ing the conversation in that direction, the subject came
naturally to the surface, and he expressed the feeling which
I have mentioned, — not indeed as having a misgiving that
you would be able to turn the stream back, but as knowing
that what you would have to say would deserve very serious
consideration.'

But there was another side of its success which probably
gave Newman far greater pleasure, confidence, and courage.
He had come forth as the champion of the Catholic priesthood.

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 35

He had won a great triumph. And his fellow-priests and
his own Bishop, whom he loved, were deeply grateful. After
all, his lot was thrown in with the Catholic body in England.
Suspicion on their part was his greatest trial. And now their
acclaim of gratitude and confidence warmed him and drove
away the sad and even morbid thoughts which had haunted
him and gone far towards poisoning the more superficial joy
of his life, though they had not touched the deepest springs
of his happiness. It was the welcome marks of approval from
these brethren in the Faith which he himself preserved for
posterity, placing them in the Appendix of his republished
' Apologia.' The first of these addresses of congratulation was
that of the Birmingham clergy. The Provincial Synod took
place at Oscott on June 2, and the occasion was used for
presenting a formal address to Dr. Newman. The scene is
thus described in a contemporary letter from one of the
Oscott priests :

' After the Synod we all gathered round the throne and
the Provost read the address.

' Dr. Newman, who stood at the Bishop's right, stood out
and we gathered closer in round him and the steps of the
throne to catch every syllable. He must have been tired for
he has worked hard at his " Apology " — they say once for 20 ^ ^
hours without a break. He had come down from London
not long before, and sat out the whole of the Synod.

* As he stepped forward a few paces and began to speak
he looked more vigorous and healthy than I have thought
him any of the three times I have seen him within 10 years.
But he soon got overpowered when he began to say what he
felt to be the real feelings suggesting the address, and tried
to do them justice. He was gasping for words, and yet
he never used an awkward or useless one, altho' he was
speaking perfectly extempore as he said, and was recognis-
ing such deep feelings in us and doing justice to them, and
expressing deeper and warmer and heartier feelings in a way
quite adequate to the affection and sympathy of a Priest to
his brother and neighbour Priests, ranged (as he said) round
the feet of their common Father and Bishop. I can't draw
the man, or the tone of voice, or give you its thrilling words
and expression.

' I never before heard a man's whole heart so plainly
coming out in his words, and stamping every look and tone
with reality and complete sincere sympathy with all around

36 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

him. His tears were visible, and most of us confessed to
crying when we came out,

' Last of all he gave us a complete answer to the request
that he would write some work to meet the errors of the
present day. He had got off the personal matter and
struck out with a force and convincing power that carried
every one to his side. ... It was full and complete, bristling
with thought and deep principle. You shall have shreds of
it when we meet next.'

Bishop Ullathorne seized the occasion to give expres-
sion in a letter to a wide appreciation among Catholics of
Newman's work in recent years, which, as we have seen,
had remained almost unrecognised by Newman himself amid
the difficulties created by the circumstances of the time.
He reviewed the great Oratorian's career since 1845, and
spoke of it in terms excessively grateful to him.

Newman has preserved in the ' Apologia ' the text alike
of the Bishop's letter and of the various congratulator}'-
addresses — one of them from 1 10 of the Westminster clergy,
including all the canons and vicars-general and many
secular and regular priests ; another from the Academia of
the Catholic religion ; as well as those from the clergy of
his own and other dioceses, and from the German Catholics
assembled in September 1864 at the Congress of Wiirzburg.

The ' Apologia ' as the story of Newman's life down to
1845 is familiar to every one. Not so universally known is
the chapter entitled ' General Answer to Mr. Kingsley ' — a
chapter of high significance in the history I am narrating,
and of permanent value. It was republished in the revised
* Apologia,* but its title was changed. It is called in the
current edition, 'Position of my Mind since 1845.' We
have seen that Newman's efforts at stating the position
of an educated Catholic in relation to the intellectual atti-
tude of the age, and repudiating untenable exaggerations,
were misunderstood by many of his co-religionists. His
object was not grasped. He defended an analysis of the
Church's claims falling short of what W. G. Ward or
Manning or the school of the Univers upheld, because he
felt that these more extreme writers overlooked historical
facts and theological distinctions. But he was credited —

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 37

by those who did not appreciate his true motive — with a
want of hearty loyalty, with a deficiency in the believing
spirit. He was opposing zealous champions of the Pope,
and (so such hostile critics urged) was thereby showing
his own want of zeal. He was supposed to be making
common cause with writers like Sir John Acton, who might
fairly be urged to be wanting in devotion to the Holy See,
and deficient in respect for the great theologians of the
Church. For him in these circumstances to criticise directly
the imprudent champions of the Papacy was a delicate and
invidious task. But when, on the other hand, an assailant
of the Church and of the Catholic priesthood travestied
the claims of authority and spoke of Catholic priests as
dupes, and as intellectual slaves, a fresh and generally in-
telligible motive was supplied which enabled him to say the
very things which in the absence of such provocation would
be offensive. Distinctions and reservations so necessary to a
really satisfactory treatment might safely be urged as sup-
plying the true answer to Kingsley's travesty, though
when used against Veuillot's exaggerations they had been
regarded as showing a lack of sympathy with the loyal
devotion which inspired the French writer. The interests of
critical and inquiring minds were not perhaps adequately
realised among English Catholics ; and admissions most
necessary for those interests were viewed as concessions to
worldliness or signs of a too cautious faith. Newman there-
fore seized the occasion which Kingsley had supplied to him
for giving a sketch of the rationale, nature, and limitations of
the Church's infallibility and an analysis of the normal action
of her authority. And what he wrote has great and lasting
importance. Its autobiographical interest is equal to its
argumentative value. It is the only account he has left of
the state of his mind — acutely critical and absolutely frank
in its recognition of historical facts and probabilities — as a
member of the Catholic Church, at a time when intellec-
tual interests were to a great extent crowded out by ex-
ternal trials and troubles. From his letters it is evident
that the chapter of which I speak had expert theological
revision, with the advantage that he could give to his censors
his own justification and explanation of any passages which

38 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

might be attacked by hostile critics. The result fully veri-
fied the view he ever maintained — that, where the interests
of theology were dealt with by really able theologians, un-
hampered by the pressure of other than theological interests,
the principles recognised in the schools were adequate to the
intellectual necessities of the time.

He indicates in this chapter the functions of authority in
the formation of Catholic theology, and also the part played
by individual thinkers, which he held that Veuillot, and even
W. G. Ward, had most mischievously overlooked.

W. G. Ward and Veuillot appeared to their critics to
appeal to the Infallible Authority for guidance almost as
though it superseded the exercise of the theological intel-
lect. W. G. Ward had uniformly written of late years
as though the normal method of advance in inquiry and
thought within the Church was that Papal instructions and
Encyclicals should take the lead, and the sole business of
the individual Catholic thinker was simply to follow that
lead. In opposition to so inadequate an account of the
normal formation of the Catholic intellect — in which great
thinkers like St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas had
had so large a share — Newman sets himself carefully to
trace the actual facts of the case. First, however, to pre-
clude all possibility of misunderstanding, he gives an analysis
of the Infallibility granted to the Church in faith and morals,
and defines its scope in such terms as would amply satisfy
all the requirements of theology.

In general he regards the Church's infallibility 'as a
provision, adapted by the mercy of the Creator to preserve
religion in the world, and to restrain that freedom of thought,
which of course in itself is one of the greatest of our natural
gifts, and to rescue it from its own suicidal excesses.' ^

But having stated his full acceptance of the Infallibility
of the Church, he formulates the objection which Kingsley
had made by implication, that such acceptance is incom-
patible with real and manly reasoning in a Catholic — a
charge which the writings of English and French Catholic
e.xtrcmists made only too plausible. Having stated it, he
proceeds to reply to it by an appeal to the palpable facts

» Apologia, p. 245.

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 39

of history. History shows that reason and private judgment
have been most active among CathoHc thinkers — that great
doctors of the Church have played a most important role
in the gradual formation of Catholic thought and theology.
Infallibility is not meant (he points out) to supersede or
destroy reason, but to curb its excesses. To regard the
Infallible Authority as the power which normally takes
the initiative or gives the lead to the Catholic mind is
entirely to misconceive its function and to state what is
contrary to historical fact. The intellect of Christian Europe
was, in point of fact, fashioned, not by Popes, but by the
reason of individual Christian thinkers exercised on revela-
tion— first of all by the great Fathers of the Church. But,
moreover, even heterodox thinkers — as Origen and Tertul-
lian — have also had their indirect share in the formation of
Catholic theology. The primary function of Rome is not
to initiate, not to form the Catholic intellect, but to act as
guardian of the original deposit and as a check on excesses
and on over-rapid and incautious development — a negative
rather than a positive contribution to thought.

' It is individuals, and not the Holy See,' he writes, ' that
have taken the initiative and given the lead to the Catholic
mind in theological inquiry. Indeed, it is one of the re-
proaches urged against the Roman Church that it has origin-
ated nothing, and has only served as a sort oireniora or break
in the development of doctrine. And it is an objection which
I embrace as a truth ; for such I conceive to be the main
purpose of its extraordinary gift. . . . The great luminary of
the Western World is, as we know, St. Augustine ; he,
no infallible teacher, has formed the intellect of Christian
Europe ; indeed to the African Church generally we must
look for the best early exposition of Latin ideas. Moreover,
of the African divines, the first in order of time, and not the
least influential, is the strong-minded and heterodox Tertul-
lian. Nor is the Eastern intellect, as such, without its share
in the formation of the Latin teaching. The free thought
of Origen is visible in the writings of the Western Doctors,
Hilary and Ambrose ; and the independent mind of Jerome
has enriched his own vigorous commentaries on Scripture,
from the stores of the scarcely orthodox Eusebius. Heretical
questionings have been transmuted by the living power of
the Church into salutary truths. The case is the same

40 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

as regards the Ecumenical Councils. Authority in its most
imposing exhibition, grave bishops, laden with the traditions
and rivalries of particular nations or places, have been guided
in their decisions by the commanding genius of individuals,
sometimes young and of inferior rank. Not that uninspired
intellect overruled the superhuman gift which was com-
mitted to the Council, which would be a self-contradictory
assertion, but that in that process of inquiry and deliberation,
which ended in an infallible enunciation, individual reason
was paramount.' '

Again, while a certain narrowness of outlook in the
average theological mind (from which, as we have seen, he
himself had suffered) had to be admitted, it was, never-
theless, in the palmy days of the theological schools — the
Middle Ages — that the strongest instances were to be found
of the functions of free discussion and active exercise of
the individual intellect in the formation of Catholic theology.
Once again — as he had already done in Dublin — he appeals
to this precedent as indicating the normal state of things,
and as giving a scope to original thinkers which excessive
centralisation and over-rigid censorship might deny. In
this passage he repeats the metaphor of fighting ' under
the lash' which we have read in the letter to Miss Bowles
cited above. He holds any such interference on the part
of authority as would stifle the ventilation of real thought
to be, not, as Kingsley supposes, general, but, on the con-
trary, abnormal, and due only to temporary circumstances or
needs. The more ordinary course has been slowness on
the part of Rome to interfere, and in the end interference
so limited that the matter can be threshed out by discussion
from various points of view, and authority often only enforces
the decision which reason has already reached.^

He points out in this connection the value of the inter-
national character of Catholicism in averting narrowness of
thought. And he deplores the loss of the influence, once
so great, of the English and German elements owing to the
apostasy of the sixteenth century.'

But perhaps more important than any of the other
passages is the one in which he gives what may be called
the philosophy of the interference of Ecclesiastical Authority

' Apologia, pp. 265-6. * Ibid. p. 267. * Ibid. p. 268.

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 41

with the secular sciences by decisions which do not claim to
be infallible. He states frankly the primd facie difficulty
such interference presents to a thinking mind, and in his
reply maintains that, on the whole, although the Supreme
Authority may be supported by a ' violent ultra party which
exalts opinions into dogmas,' ' history shows in the long run
that official interferences themselves have been mainly wise,
and the opponents of authority mainly wrong. The lesson
of this impressive passage is one of great patience in a time
of transition and of trial.

But these passages of controversy in the 'Apologia,' though
so supremely necessary, were painful. The writer seems to
break off with a sense of relief, and ends his book with the
loving tribute to his friends at the Oratory which stands
among those passages in which he speaks to all and makes
all love him — with ' Lead, kindly light,' with the Epilogue
to the ' Development,' with the close of the sermon on the
' Parting of Friends ' :

' I have closed this history of myself with St. Philip's
name upon St. Philip's feast-day ; and, having done so, to
whom can I more suitably offer it, as a memorial of affection
and gratitude, than to St. Philip's sons, my dearest brothers
of this House, the Priests of the Birmingham Oratory,
Ambrose St. John, Henry Austin Mills, Henry

BiTTLESTON, EDWARD CaSWALL, WiLLIAM PAINE NeVILLE,

and Henry Ignatius Dudley Ryder ? who have been so
faithful to me ; who have been so sensitive of my needs ; who
have been so indulgent to my failings ; who have carried me
through so many trials ; who have grudged no sacrifice, if I
asked for it ; who have been so cheerful under discouragements
of my causing ; who have done so many good works, and let
me have the credit of them ; — with whom I have lived so
long, with whom I hope to die.

' And to ycu especially, dear AMBROSE St. John ; whom
God gave me, when He took every one else away ; who are
the link between my old life and my new ; who have now
for twenty-one years been so devoted to me, so patient, so
zealous, so tender ; who have let me lean so hard upon you ;
who have watched me so narrowly ; who have never thought
of yourself, if I was in question.

' And in you I gather up and bear in memory those familiar
affectionate companions and counsellors, who in Oxford were

' Apologia, p. 260.

42 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

given to me, one after another, to be my daily solace and
relief; and all those others, of great name and high example,
who were my thorough friends, and showed me true attachment
in times long past ; and also those many young men, whether
I knew them or not, who have never been disloyal to me by
word or by deed ; and of all these, thus various in their
relations to me, those more especially who have since joined
the Catholic Church.

' And I earnestly pray for this whole company, with a
hope against hope, that all of us, who once were so united,
and so happy in our union, may even now be brought at
length, by the Power of the Divine Will, mto One Fold and
under One Shepherd.

' May 26th, 1864.
In Festo Corp. Christ.'

The acclaim of the Press, as we have seen, testified to a
public opinion completely conquered. Addresses of congra-
tulation from representative Catholic critics long continued
to come. It was a victory. Yet the book did not pass
wholly unchallenged. The lucid exposition, in the last part
of the ' Apologia,' of the Church as viewed historically, pro-
voked censure from some unhistorical minds among the
theological critics. Such criticisms led Newman, as he in-
timated in a letter to Dr. Russell, to go into the passages
criticised with expert theologians, with whom he was
successful in justifying his meaning.

♦ April 19, 1865.

' I have altered some things,' he writes to Dr. Russell,
' and perhaps, as you say, have thereby anticipated your
criticisms. But I have altered only with the purpose of
expressing my own meaning more exactly. This is all I
have to aim at ; because I have reason to know, that, after a
severe, not to say hostile scrutiny, I have been found to be
without matter of legitimate offence. For a day like this, in
which such serious efforts are made to narrow that liberty
of thought and speech which is open to a Catholic, I am
indisposed to suppress my own judgment in order to satisfy
objectors. Among such persons of course I do not include
you : but, using the same frankness w-hich you so kindly
claim in writing to me, I will express my belief, that you
are tender towards others, in the remarks which you
ask to make, rather than actually displeased with me
yourself

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' (1864) 43

One criticism Newman did think it important to answer
— namely, the objection taken by scholastic critics to his
language on ' probable ' evidence as the basis of certainty,
the very point on which W. Froude's scientific friends had
also fastened. Newman wrote to Canon Walker the following
thoroughly popular explanation of the consistency of his
views with the recognised teaching :

''July 6, 1864. . . . The best illustration of what I hold
is that of a cable, which is made up of a number of separate
threads, each feeble, yet together as sufficient as an iron rod.

' An iron rod represents mathematical or strict demon-
stration ; a cable represents moral demonstration, which is
an assemblage of probabilities, separately insufficient for cer-
tainty, but, when put together, irrefragable. A man who said
" I cannot trust a cable, I must have an iron bar," would
in certain given cases, be irrational and unreasonable : — so too
is a man who says I must have a rigid demonstration, not
moral demonstration, of religious truth.'

The criticisms of captious theologians were a real trial
to Newman, for they made him feel the difficulty of writing
further, as his friends wished, and taking advantage of having
won the ear of the English public.

' As to my writing more,' he complains to Mr. Hope-Scott
in a letter of July 6th, ' speaking in confidence, I do not know
how to do it. One cannot speak ten words without ten objec-
tions being made to each. I am not certain that I shall not
have some remarks made on what I have just finished. The
theology of the Dublin is, to my mind, monstrous — but I am
safe there, from the kindness which Ward feels for me. Now
I cannot lose my time and strength, and tease my mind, with
controversy. It would matter little, if I might be quiet
under criticisms — but I never can be sure that great lies may
not be told about me at Rome, and so I may be put on my
defence. A writer in a Review of this month says (he knows
personally) that persons in Rome within this three years
spoke publicly of the probability of my leaving the Church.
And Mgr. Talbot put about that I had subscribed to
Garibaldi, and took credit for having concealed my delin-
quencies from the Pope. I take all this, and can only take
it, as the will of God. I mean, I have done nothing whatever
to call for it.'

Still the net result of the book was a triumph, and the
criticisms were soon forgotten. But in this very fact of the

44 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

balance ultimately turning in favour of success, Newman

found a reason against running the risk involved in setting

up a fresh target for criticism without real necessity. And

when Canon Walker called eagerly for another book he thus

replied :

'August 5, 1864.

' As to my writing more, I am tempted to say " Let well
alone." If I attempt to do more, I may do less. Almost to
my surprise I have succeeded. I have sincerely tried to keep
from controversy, and to occupy myself in simply defending
myself, and in myself my brethren ; and, without my in-
tending it, I have written what I hear from various quarters
is found to be useful controversially. If I attcynptcd to be
controversial, I may spoil all. Some people have said "Your
history is more to your purpose than all your arguments."

' Then again I never can write well without a definite call.
You were rating me for several years, because I did not
write ; but if I had attempted, it would be a failure, like a
boy's theme. But when the real occasion came, I succeeded.
I almost think it is part of the English character, though in
this day there seems a change certainly. Grote, Thirhvall,
Milman, Cornewall Lewis, Mill, have written great works for
their own sake. So did Gibbon last century, but he was
half a Frenchman. Our great writers have generally written
on occasion —controversially as Burke, or Milton; officially,
as Blackstone — for money as Dryden, Johnson, Scott &c., or
in Sibyl's leaves as Addison and the Essayists.'

One passage in his book which provoked criticism was
its testimony to the value of the Church of England — an
institution which some Catholics, more zealous in feeling
than educated in mind, considered should be spoken of
with contempt and derision by any thoroughly orthodox
son of the Church. The tone of Newman's letter to Henry
Wilberforce in reference to this criticism represents, I think,
the feeling he came eventually to have as to all the criticisms
— that they were inevitable in the circumstances of the time,
and would not ultimately much signify :

'The Oratory, Birmingham: St. Bartholomew's Day, Aug. 24th, 1864.

' Thanks for your considerateness, but I never conjectured
for an instant that the publication of the Articles you speak
of depended on you. I have not more than .seen them, but
it is hard if my book may not be criticised as any other book.
Ofcour.se, I stared at a critic's thinking that it is impossible

THE WRITING OF THE 'APOLOGIA' {1864) 45

for an institution to be great in a human way because it is
simply an idol and a nehushtan in an Apostolic point of view,
though I recognised in the sentiment what is one of the evil
delusions of many who are not converts but old Catholics,
(perhaps of some converts too) that Catholics are on an intel-
lectual and social equality with Protestants. This idea I
have ever combated, and been impatient at; and, till we allow
that there are greater natural gifts and human works in the
Protestant world of England than in the little Catholic flock,
we only make ourselves ridiculous and hurt that just in-
fluence by which alone we can hope to convert men. If
there were no such thing as absolute truth in religious
matters, there is great wisdom in a compromise and com-
prehension of opinions, — and this the Church of England
exhibits.'

One, and only one, adverse criticism did remain perma-
nently in the public mind, — that Newman had been unduly
sensitive and personally bitter towards Kingsley. With this
impression he dealt in a highly interesting letter to Sir
William Cope written at the time of Kingsley's death, — a letter
which completes the story of the writing of the * Apologia.'

' The Oratory : Feb. 13th, 1875.

' My dear Sir William, — I thank you very much for the
gift of your sermon. The death of Mr. Kingsley, — so pre-
mature— shocked me. I never from the first have felt any
anger towards him. As I said in the first pages of my
" Apologia," it is very difficult to be angry with a man one
has never seen. A casual reader would think my language
denoted anger, — but it did not. I have ever found from ex-
perience that no one would believe me in earnest if I spoke
calmly. When again and again I denied the repeated
report that I was on the point of coming back to the Church
of England, I have uniformly found that, if I simply denied
it, this only made newspapers repeat the report more con-
fidently,— but, if I said something sharp, they abused me for
scurrility against the Church I had left, but they believed
me. Rightly or wrongly, this was the reason why I felt it
would not do to be tame and not to show indignation at
Mr. Kingsley's charges. Within the last few years I have
been obliged to adopt a similar course towards those who
said I could not receive the Vatican Decrees. I sent a sharp
letter to the Guardian and, of course, the Guardian called me
names, but it believed me and did not allow the offence of
its correspondent to be repeated.

46 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' As to Mr. Kingsley, much less could I feel any resent-
ment against him when he was accidentally the instrument, in
the good Providence of God, by whom I had an opportunity
given me, which otherwise I should not have had, of
vindicating my character and conduct in my " Apologia." I
heard, too, a few years back from a friend that she chanced
to go into Chester Cathedral and found Mr. K. preaching
about me, kindly though, of course, with criticisms on me.
And it has rejoiced me to observe lately that he was
defending the Athanasian Creed, and, as it seemed to me,
in his views generally nearing the Catholic view of things. I
have always hoped that by good luck I might meet him,
feeling sure that there would be no embarrassment on my
part, and I said Mass for his soul as soon as I heard of his
death.

' Most truly yours,

John H. Newman.'

CHAPTER XXI

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD ( 1 864- 1 865)

The success of the ' Apologia ' at once attracted attention
in Rome. Monsignor Talbot, at Manning's suggestion, called
at the Oratory in July, and subsequently wrote to invite
Newman to visit Rome and deliver a course of sermons at his
own church. ' When,' he wrote, ' I told the Holy Father that
I intended to invite you, he highly approved of my intention ;
and I think myself that you will derive great benefit from
revisiting Rome and again showing yourself to the ecclesias-
tical authorities there who are anxious to see you.' Newman
curtly declined the proposal.' He would not respond to such
advances brought about by his new popularity. He had not
forgotten that Monsignor Talbot had been among the foremost
of those who had thrown suspicion on his orthodoxy in the sad
days which succeeded his connection with the Rambler. Nor
would he allow his friends to rate too highly the significance
of Talbot's visit and letter as signs of favour in high quarters.
* As to my invitation to Rome,' he wrote to Miss Bowles, 'it
was this. Monsignor Talbot, who had been spreading the re-
port that I subscribed to Garibaldi, and said other bad things
against me, had the assurance to send me a pompous letter
asking me to preach a set of sermons in his church, saying
that then I should have an opportunity to show myself to
the authorities (that, I think, was his phrase) and to rub up
my Catholicism. It was an insolent letter. I declined.' The
invitation 'was suggested by Manning— the Pope had nothing
to do with it. When Talbot left for England he said, among
other things, " I think of asking Dr. Newman to give a set
of lectures in my church," and the Pope, of course, said, " a
very good thought," as he would have said if Mgr. Talbot
* For the text of this correspondence, see p. 539.

48 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

had said, " I wish to bring Your Holiness some English
razors." '

Nevertheless, Newman's letters show that he was sensible
of having now quite a new position in the Catholic world.
He was recognised as the great and successful apologist for
the Catholic religion, a defender of the Catholic priesthood,
in a battle which had commanded the attention of all the
English-speaking world. He states in his journal that his
success 'put him in spirits' to look out for fresh work.

The English Universities had been thrown open to Catho-
lics by the abolition of the tests which had long excluded
them. Cardinal Wiseman, in earlier days, had inveighed
against the injustice of their exclusion, and had looked
forward to the time when in Oxford as in the Westminster
Parliament his co-religionists should compete on equal
terms with their fellow-countrymen. He had avowed these
sentiments openly in the Dublin Review. Newman had for
some time considered the possibility of a renewed connection
with Oxford, with the immediate object of affording spiritual
and intellectual guidance to Catholic undergraduates, and the
indirect issue of coming to close quarters with the thought
of the place, and undertaking as occasion demanded such
an intellectual exposition of Catholicism in its relation to
modern movements as would make it a power in English
religious thought. This in turn would help to secure and
fortify the faith of the young. Such an endeavour would
enable him to continue in a new form the work he had
endeavoured to do both at Dublin and in the Rambler.
The Catholic University had failed. University training
must be sought by Catholics at Oxford or Cambridge, or
not at all. He knew Oxford and loved it. It had been
the scene of his wonderful work in stemming the early
stages of rationalistic thought among the youth of England.
Now rationalism had grown there and the philosophy of
J. S. Mill was supreme. Could he resume his task with
the power of the Catholic Church behind him .-'

The Munich Brief had in 1863, as we have seen, directly
discouraged the attempt to meet the intellectual needs of the
hour in the particular form it had been taking among the
German savants. Could it be made under different conditions ?

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864-1865) 49

Could something in the desired direction be undertaken as an
almost pastoral work for the sake of the rising generation ?

Newman's sense of the urgency of the danger and of the
necessity of meeting it by argument rather than mere censure
of error appears in a letter written to Mr. Ornsby shortly
after the publication of the Munich Brief (in the year pre-
ceding the * Apologia '), in reply to his correspondent's in-
formation as to the tendency towards infidelity among the
abler and more thoughtful young Catholics at Dublin :

' What you say about this tendency towards infidelity is
melancholy in the extreme — but to be expected. What has
been done for the young men ?

' . . . Denunciation effects neither subjection in thought
nor in conduct ; I think it was in my last letter that I con-
cluded with some words which I wrote half asleep about the
Home and Foreign. I wonder what I said, — I had a great
deal to say, though it is wearisome to bring it out. The
Home and Foreign has to amend its ways most consider-
ably before it can be spoken well of by Catholics — so I
think ; but it realises the fact that there are difficulties which
have to be met, and it tries to meet them. Not successfully
or always prudently, but still it has done something (I
include the Rambler), and to speak against it as some
persons do seems to me the act of men who are blind to the
intellectual difficulties of the day. You cannot make men
believe by force and repression. Were the Holy See as
powerful in temporals as it was three centuries back, then
you would have a secret infidelity instead of an avowed one
— (which seems the worse evil) unless you train the reason
to defend the truth. Galileo subscribed what was asked of
him, but is said to have murmured : " E pur si muove."

' And your cut and dried answers out of a dogmatic
treatise are no weapons with which the Catholic Reason can
hope to vanquish the infidels of the day. Why was it that
the Medieval Schools were so vigorous ? Because they were
allowed free and fair play — because the disputants were not
made to feel the bit in their mouths at every other word they
spoke, but could move their limbs freely and expatiate at
will. Then, when they went wrong, a stronger and truer
intellect set them down — and, as time went on, if the dispute
got perilous, and a controversialist obstinate, then at length
Rome interfered — at length, not at first. Truth is wrought
out by many minds working together freely. As far as I can
make out, this has ever been the rule of the Church till
VOL. II. E

50 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

now, when the first French Revolution having destroyed the
Schools of Europe, a sort of centralization has been estab-
lished at head quarters — and the individual thinker in France,
England, or Germany is brought into immediate collision with
the most sacred authorities of the Divine Polity. . . .

' I suppose we must be worse before we are better —
because we do not recognise that we are bad.' ^

It must be remembered that the Oxford scheme was
never Newman's ideal. It was a concession to necessities
of the hour. His ideal scheme, alike for the education of
the young and for the necessary intellectual defence of
Christianity, had consistently been the erection of a large
Catholic University, like Louvain. This he had tried to set
up in Catholic Ireland. In such an institution research and
discussion of the questions of the day would be combined,
as in the Middle Ages, with a Catholic atmosphere, the
personal ascendency of able Christian professors, and
directly religious influences for the young men. The cause
of the failure of his attempt lay, not in him, but in
the conditions of the country. His thoughts had there-
fore turned of necessity towards Oxford. But the exact
nature of the scheme to be aimed at was for some time
in his mind uncertain, and it was not until after the appear-
ance of the ' Apologia' that he was hopeful enough to think
of himself as likely to do a useful work in this connection.

A few months after the above letter to Mr. Ornsby was
written, the question of Catholics frequenting Oxford and
of the necessary safeguards which their admission must call
for was en evidence. Cardinal Wiseman had years earlier
spoken of the possibility of Oscott being some day used as
a University for Catholics. And Newman — not yet closely
concerned in the Oxford scheme — in 1863 threw out a hint
based on this idea to Bishop Ullathorne, who consulted him
on the whole subject.

' It is a marvel,' Newman wrote to Ambrose St. John
in this connexion, ' that the Bishop suffers me, that he suffers

• ' My view has ever been,' he writes to Mr. Copeland on April 20, 1873,
' to answer, not to suppress, what is erroneous — merely as a mailer of expedience
for the cause of truth, at least at this day. It seems to me a had policy to
suppress. Truth has a power of its own which makes its way — it is stronger than
error according to the |>rovcrb " Magna est Veritas" etc'

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1S64-1865) 51

us, considering his exceeding suspiciousness about people
near me, whom he seems to think heretics, and his taking any
lukewarmness about the Temporal Power, and any tolerance
of Napoleon, as synonymous with laxity of faith. We ought
to put it to the account of St. Philip.'

At the meeting of the Bishops at Eastertide in 1864 ^
resolution was drafted discouraging Catholics from going to
Oxford ; but nothing final or decisive was done. The most
influential lay opinion was in favour of Oxford — a Catholic
College or Hall being the most popular scheme. So matters
stood when the ' Apologia ' was written.

Two months after the completion of the ' Apologia,' in
August 1864, Mr. Ambrose Smith, a Catholic resident in
Oxford, had the refusal of five acres of excellent land in
the town. He conveyed the offer to Newman. Newman felt
that it should not be allowed to fall through. He consulted
his friends. The land might be bought for some religious
purpose even if its precise object was not at once determined.
It would be for some work for the Church in connection with
Oxford — an Oratory, a Hall, or a College, Newman, now on
the crest of the wave of hope which the ' Apologia ' had rolled
forward, rose to the notion. He communicated with Plope-
Scott and other friends as to the necessary purchase money.

He communicated too with Bishop Ullathorne, who offered
the Mission of Oxford to the Oratory — thus at once giving
an assured and certainly lawful destination to the purchase.

A letter from Newman to Hope-Scott gives the situation
in this first stage in the negotiations :

'August 29th, 1S64.

' The Bishop has offered us the Mission — and is collecting
money for Church and priest's house. They would become
pro tempore the Church and House of the Oratory. No
college would be set up, but the priest — i.e. the Fathers of the
Orator}'^ — would take lodgers.

' So far, as far as a plan goes, is fair sailing, but now can
the OrsXory, propria inotu (when once established in Oxford,
for this I can do with nothing more than the Bishop's
consent), can the Oratory, that is I, when once set up, without
saying a word to any one, make the Oratory a Hall ? I
cannot tell. I don't see why I should not. The Oratory
is confessedly out of the Bishop's jurisdiction. Propaganda

52 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

might at once interfere — perhaps would. Our Bishop left to
himself would be for an Oxford Catholic College or Hall ;
but Propaganda would be against him, and my only defence
would be tJie support of the Catholic gentry.

' Further the old workhouse stands on the ground (fronting
Walton Street). It was built of stone about 90 years ago by
(Gwynne) the architect of Magdalen Bridge — it has a regular
front of perhaps 237 feet. I am writing for some information
about it. Father Caswall went to see it, but could not get
admittance. It holds 150 paupers. (They say it will sell,
i.e. the materials, for about 400/.) Perhaps it would admit
of fitting up as a Hall or College. I daresay I could collect
money for that specific purpose — perhaps Montcith, Scott
Murray, Mr. Waldron and others would give me lOO/. a
piece — perhaps I might collect 1,000/. in that way, which
might be enough. This plan would be i7idependent of any
Mission plan, but it is a great point to come in under the
Bishop's sanction and to be carrying out an idea of his.
Also, it gives us an ostensible position quite independent of
the College plan. We have our work in Oxford, though the
College plan failed. And we can feel our way much better.
It would not be worth while coming to Oxford to keep a
mere lodging house, — but, being there already as Missioners,
it is natural to take youths into our building, and many
parents would like it.

' But now, per co7itra.

' I. At my age — when I am sick of all plans — have little
energy, and declining strength.

' 2. When we are so few and have so many irons in the fire.

' 3. How could I mix again with Oxford men ? How
could I " siccis oculis " see " monstra natantia " when I walked
the streets, who had made snaps at me, or looked " torve "
upon me in times long past ? How could I throw myself
into what might be such painful re-awakening animosities?
How could I adjust my position with dear Pusej-, and others
who are at present my well-wishers?

' 4. Then all the work I might be involved in, do what I
would !

' 5. And the hot water I might get into with Propaganda.
Perhaps I should have to kick my heels at its door for a
whole year, like poor Dr. Baines. It would kill me. The
Catholic gentry alone could save mc here.

* 6. Then again I ought to have a view on all those
questions about Scripture, the antiquity of man, metaphysics,
evidence, &c., &c., which I have not, — and which, as soon as

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (i 864-1 865) 53

I got, I might get a rap on the knuckles from Propaganda
for divulging,

' 7. Then I have had so much disappointment and
anxiety, — the Irish University is such a failure — the Achilli
matter was such a scrape — the School is such a fidget — that
I once again quote against myself the words of Euripides in
censure of 01 TrspKraoi or Lord Melbourne's : " Why can't you
let it alone?"

' If we did it we should have a resident curate, and a
resident dean or the like ; and send one of our Fathers to
and fro as " Rector," which is the Oratorian name for Vice-
Superior or Vice- Provost.

' Now I have put out all before you ; and give me your
opinion on the whole. I have told Mr. Ambrose Smith I
will give him his answer by the 8th September.'

While Newman, after his wont, was threshing out every
item of the prospect in his correspondence, weighing ' pros '
and ' cons,' asking for delay, Mr. Ambrose Smith died quite
unexpectedly. Then a decision had to be come to at once.
He sent Father Ambrose and Father Edward to Oxford with
a free hand. They bought the land for 8,400/. Newman
writes to Miss Giberne on October 25 :

' The two Fathers returned last night at 7, and I am
writing to you first of all just after mass, knowing what
interest you will take in it, how you love both the Oratory
and Oxford, and what benefit your prayers will do me. The
sum is awful — I have to meet it by the first of January. Mr.
Hope-Scott gives 1000/. — the Oratory 1000/. — the rest I
must make up out o{ Xhe private money of Ambrose, Edward
and William, as I can. And then how are they (and our
Oratory) to live without money ! our school does not pay —
our offertory does not support the Sacristy. Therefore we
have need of prayers.

'The land is, 2iS you would think, out of Oxford, — but the
place is growing in that direction — and is growing in the
shape of gentlefolk as well as poor — so that, independent of
the bearing of the Oratory on the University, we think there
is room for a good mission. The ground beyond the Park
and the Observatory is getting covered with houses. The
1 Protestant) parochial clergy are becoming married men —
the Tutors, nay the Fellows, are marrying — and the Pro-
fessors have by late changes increased in number and in
wealth. Thus there is a society growing up in Oxford, which

54 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

never was before, bcj'ond the exclusive pale of Provosts and
Presidents. Well, the land lies between Worcester College,
the Printing Office, the Observatory, St. Giles's and Beau-
mont Street. It is a plot of 5 acres, on which stood hitherto
the Work-house, which has been removed now to another
locality. Hence the sale of the ground. Five acres is a
square of which each side is nearly 480 feet long — so you
may think how large it is. Christ Church Tom quad is a
square of about 260 feet a side. Trinity College with its
gardens is not 5 acres I suppose. Oriel, I suspect, is little
more than i acre or an acre and a half It is far, far too
much for an Oratory — and the price far too much, and yet
we shall have extreme difficult)' in selling a portion again
without loss. There is a talk of an Oxford Catholic College
— if so, we should sell to it.

' We propose at once to start a subscription for a
Church, commemorative of the Oxford Movement, and we
are sanguine that we shall get a great deal of money.'

The idea of a college was, however, soon definitely aban-
doned and an Oratory at Oxford was again contemplated.
Newman writes thus to Mr. Gaisford :

« October 30th, 1S64.

' In nothing can one have one's own will, pure and simple,
and the difficulty is increased where one is not sure what
one's will is. The College or Hall scheme is enveloped in
difficulty. ... I look to see, supposing these preliminary
difficulties overcome, whether it will be acceptable to Catholics.
Now here I find a strong, I may say a growing, feeling on
the part of the Bishops against it. Our own Bishop who was
favourable to it some time ago has got stronger and stronger
against it, and the person to whom he confided the drawing
up of the memorandum to be sent to Propaganda on the
subject, an Oxford man, gave his judgment against it. I saj-
nothing of the opposition of Dr. Manning and the Dublin
Review, which is only too well known. Nor is this all —
Catholic gentlemen are beginning to /r^/^r sending their boys
to the existing Colleges — ^some have been for doing so from
the first. . . . The Catholic public, it is plain, take no interest
in the scheme. Whatever may happen years hence, it is
impracticable now. And I have accordingly ceased to think
of it.

• Hence I am led to contemplate, if possible, a strong
ecclesiastical body in Oxford in order to be a centre of the
Catholic youth there, and as a defence against Protestant

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD ^1864-1865) 55

influences. Now do not think I am contemplating anything
controversial. Just the contrary. I would conciliate the
University if I could — but young Catholics must be seen to.

' 1 repeat, we must do what we can in all things. Our
Bishop takes up this Oratory view. He has long been
wishing to make Oxford a strong Mission. A back yard in
St. Clements and a barn to say Mass in, are not the proper
representatives of the visible Church. But, if you do come
forward, if you move on to St. Giles', any how you will
frighten at first and annoy the academical body. This is
unavoidable. Next, how are you to raise the money for a
Church ? Catholics will not subscribe to it without a stimulus.
Four years ago the notion of a Memorial Church was
suggested by the Bishop. I did not enter into it then. Now
I do. I think it will gain the money, and 1 don't see any
other way. The watchword (so to call it, for I am taking it
in its most objectionable point of view) will die away when
the money is collected. Only the fabric will remain. It will
not be written upon it "the Movement Church" — if it is still
an eyesore, it will be so, because it is a Catholic Church, not
because it was raised with a certain idea.'

Newman's immediate object, to help the Catholic under-
graduates, and his ultimate aim — of influencing religious
thought in Oxford with a view to the future — are stated
incidentally in a letter to Mr. Wetherell :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : Nov. ist, 1864.

' My dear Wetherell, — I wish I could talk to you instead
of writing. I am passing through London and would make
an appointment except that, from the hour which I must fix,
it would be impossible for you to keep, while it would bind
me. At present it looks as if I should come up to the
Paddington Terminus on Thursday by the train which
arrives at about j to 11. If so, I should go to the coffee
room. I have been quite well till now, — but this Oxford
matter has for the moment knocked me up, so that I am
running away to hide m}'self

' We arc proceeding to build a Church direct!}- — and my
great difficulty is this — to raise the money by contributions I
must take an ostentatious line and make a noise, — to set
myself right with the Oxford residents, who are at this
moment alarmed, I ought to be unostentatious and quiet. I
truly wish the latter — I have no intention of making a row —
no wish to angle for heedless undergraduates. I go primaril}-
and directly to take care of the Catholic youth who are

56 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

beginning to go there, and are in Protestant Colleges. And
what I aim at is not immediate conversions, but to influence,
as far as an old man can, the tone of thought in the place,
with a view to a distant time when 1 shall be no longer here.
I do not want controversy. So much for the University — as
to the town people, of course I shall have no objection, if I
can, to convert them — not that their souls are more precious,
but that they can be got (if so) without greater counter-
balancing evils.

' Then on the other hand, I do come out with a watch-
word— viz. the Church is to be a sort of thank-offering on
the part of the converts of the last 30 years. How can I
raise the money unless this be understood ?

' I don't expect to leave Birmingham.

' Very sincerely yours,

John H. Newman.

' P.S. — You may use what I have said at your discretion,

but not on my atcthority.'

The work Newman contemplated was to be done not in
opposition to, but rather in unison with, the Church of
England and the other religious forces in Oxford. The
danger from which he wished to protect the undergraduates
was free thought. In a remarkable letter four years earlier
he had declined the proposal that he should take part in
building a new church at Oxford, on the very ground that he
thought controversy with Anglicans in Oxford undesirable.
This letter — addressed to Canon Estcourt and dated June 2,
i860 — ran as follows :

' You seemed to think with me that the Catholics of
Oxford do not require a new Church : if then a subscription
is commenced for a new one, it will be with a view to making
converts from the University. Indeed, I think you will
allow this to be the view : for it was on this very ground
that you wished me, and the only ground on which you
could wish me, to take part in it. You said that my name
would draw aid from converts — and you were kind enough
to wish that the Church thus built should be in a certain
sense a memorial of my former position in Oxford. Now
a controversial character thus given to new ecclesiastical
establishments there, whatever be its expedience in itself,
would be the very circumstance which would determine me
personally against taking that part in promoting them, which
you assign to me. It would do more harm than good.

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864- 1865) 57

' To take part in this would be surely inconsistent with
the sentiments which I have ever acted upon, since I have
been a Catholic. My first act was to leave the neighbour-
hood of Oxford, where I found myself, at considerable incon-
venience. When I heard the question of a new Oxford
Church mooted at Stonyhurst soon after, I spoke against it.
In all that I have written, I have spoken of Oxford and the
Oxford system with affection and admiration. I have put
its system forward, as an instance of that union of dogmatic
teaching and liberal education which command my assent.
I have never acted in direct hostility to the Church of
England. I have, in my lectures on Anglicanism, professed
no more than to carry^ on " children of the Movement of
1833" to their legitimate conclusions. In my lectures on
Catholicism in England, I oppose, not the Anglican Church,
but National Protestantism, and Anglicans only so far as
they belong to it. In taking part in building a new Church
at Oxford, I should be commencing a line of conduct which
would require explanation. . . .

' While I do not see my way to take steps to weaken the
Church of England, being what it is, least of all should I be
disposed to do so in Oxford, which has hitherto been the
seat of those traditions which constitute whatever there is
of Catholic doctrine and principle in the Anglican Church.
That there are also false traditions there, I know well : I
know too that there is a recent importation of scepticism and
infidelity ; but, till things are very much changed there, in
weakening Oxford, we are weakening our friends, weakening
our own de facto Traiha'yoi'yos into the Church. Catholics
did not make us Catholics ; Oxford made us Catholics. At
present Oxford surely does more good than harm. There
has been a rage for shooting sparrows of late years, under the
notion that they are the farmers' enemies. Now, it is dis-
covered that they do more good by destroying insects than
harm by picking up the seed. In Australia, I believe, they
are actually importing them. Is there not something of a
parallel here ?

' I go further than a mere tolerance of Oxford ; as I have
said, I wish to suffer the Church of England. The Establish-
ment has ever been a breakwater against Unitarianism,
fanaticism, and infidelity. It has ever loved us better than
Puritans or Independents have loved us. And it receives all
that abuse and odium of dogmatism, or at least a good deal
of it, which otherwise would be directed against us. I should
have the greatest repugnance to introducing controversy

58 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

into those quiet circles and sober schools of thought which
are the strength of the Church of England. It is another
thing altogether to introduce controversy to individual
minds which are already unsettled, or have a drawing
towards Catholicism. Altogether another thing in a place
like Birmingham, where nearly everyone is a nothingarian,
an infidel, a sceptic, or an inquirer. Here Catholic efforts
are not only good in themselves, and do good, but cannot
possibly do any even incidental harm — here, whatever is
done is .so much gain. In Oxford you would unsettle
many, and gain a few, if you did your most.

' If a Catholic Church were in a position there suitable
for acting upon Undergraduates, first it would involve on
their part a conscious breach of University and College
regulations ; then it would attract just those who were likely
to be unstable, and who perhaps in a year or two would lapse
back to Protestantism ; and then, it would create great bitter-
ness of feeling and indignation against Catholics, prejudice
fair minds against the truth, and diminish the chances of our
being treated with equity at Oxford or elsewhere.'

But while he had thus declined in 1 860 to place antagonism
between the forces of Anglicanism and Catholicism in Oxford,
or to countenance proselytism, another idea now gradually
grew upon him, that he might help to do what Pusey and his
friends had been attempting in Oxford — that he might serve
the cause of Christian philosophy against the incoming tide
of freethought'

The next step was to appeal for funds, and Newman drew
up a careful circular with this object, and submitted it to
Hope-Scott. The proposal was not only to pay for the land,
but to erect a church commemorative of the Oxford con-
versions of 1845. This proposal, which Newman had de-
clined when it appeared to be a controversial demonstration,
he now accepted in new circumstances ; but he carefully
eliminated all controversial matter from his circular. The
circular had to be framed with great care. For the opposi-
tion of the hierarchy to Catholics entering the existing
Oxford colleges had to be taken into account. This
difficulty appears in a letter to Hope-Scott :

' His appreciation of Pusey's work in this respect, and his sense that it
was one wiiii which Catholics should deeply sympathise, is indicated in a letter
to Lord Ik.nye. See p. 486.

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1S64-1865) 59

' October 31st, 1864.

' ' I am not sure that I understood your letter. I believe
it means this : — " don't give up the idea of a College or
Hall — don't cut off the chance of it. To say you are sent to
the Catholic youth in the existing Colleges is a sort of
recognition of those Colleges as a fit place for them, and
an acquiescence in the abandonment of the College or Hall
scheme. Therefore speak of the existing admission to the
University, not Colleges." I have altered it to meet this
idea.

' Also, I have cut off the part to which you object. Still,
I have spoken of the spirit of the Oratory, because it ever has
been peaceable, unpolitical, conceding, and quiet. You may
think it, however, as sounding like a fling at the Jesuits, &c.
For this, or any other reason, draw your pen across it if you
think best.'

The circular sent to his friends, together with the
Bishop's letter entrusting the Mission to him entirely, ran as
follows :

' Father Newman having been entrusted by his Diocesan
with the Mission of Oxford, is proceeding, with the sanction
of Propaganda, to the establishment there of a House of the
Oratory.

' Some such establishment in one of the great seats of
learning seems to be demanded of English Catholics at a
time when the relaxation both of controversial animosity and
of legal restriction has allowed them to appear before their
countrymen in the full profession and the genuine attributes
of their Holy Religion,

' And, while there is no place in England more likely
than Oxford to receive a Catholic community with fairness,
interest, and intelligent curiosity, so on the other hand the
English Oratory has this singular encouragement in placing
itself there, that it has been expressly created and blessed
by the reigning Pontiff for the very purpose of bringing
Catholicity before the educated classes of society, and
especially those classes which represent the traditions and
the teaching of Oxford.

' Moreover, since many of its priests have been educated
at the Universities, it brings to its work an acquaintance and
a sympathy with Academical habits and sentiments, which
are a guarantee of its inoffensive bearing towards the
members of another communion, and which will specially
enable it to discharge its sacred duties in the peaceable and

6o LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

conciliatory spirit which is the historical characteristic of the
sons of St. Philip Neri.

' Father Newman has already secured a site for an
Oratory Church and buildings in an eligible part of Oxford ;
and he now addresses himself to the work of collecting the
sums necessary for carrying his important undertaking into
effect. This he is able to do under the sanction of the
following letter from the Bishop of the Diocese, which it gives
him great satisfaction to publish.'

For two months all seemed to go well. Newman was
living among his own friends and did not realise the potent
forces which were working against him, of which I shall
speak directly. Mr. Wetherell was especially active on his
behalf He engaged the services of the able architect
Mr. Henry Clutton for the buildings in connection with the
Oxford Oratory. Newman's old Oxford friend James Laird
Patterson took him to see Cardinal Wiseman to talk things
over. Wiseman's uncordial reception of him was ascribed
by them both to ill-health. Of the determined opposition
to the scheme which, at the instigation of Manning and
W. G. Ward, the Cardinal was preparing to offer, they had
no suspicion ; so all letters up to the middle of November
speak of sanguine hope. A few specimens shall suffice :

' Brighton : November 5th, 1864.

' My dear Ambrose, — We came here last night as a first
stage towards Hastings, whither we find Pollen has gone.
It is cold and raw here.

' Our day in London was successful. Patterson has no
idea at all of leaving London, and, when he said he put
himself at my disposal, he meant to make the offer, con-
sistently with his being at the disposal of the Westminster
Diocese. However, he is very warm. . . . He thought that
Oxford offered a large field for conversions. I daresay he
would be more desirous of manifestations than I should be.

' Wetherell and Clutton both were in high spirits and
hopes about the Oxford scheme, and prophesied all that was
good and glorious. Yard' I could not sec, as it was St. Charles's
day — I must sec him in returning. There will be an article
on the Oxford matter in the Daily News of this day. . . .
Clutton is coming to us on Monday 14th — going first to
Oxford.

' Fathtr \ ard was one of ihc Oblates of St. Charles at Bayswater.

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864-1865) 61

' Patterson said he was going to the Cardinal, who had
not been well. ... I went with him, and saw the poor
Cardinal for ten minutes. I saw him, I suppose, in his usual
state — relaxed, feeble, and dejected.' On ringing at the
door, I had said to Patterson, " You must bring me off in
five minutes for the Cardinal is so entertaining a talker that
it is always difficult to get away from him." Alas, what
I never could have fancied beforehand, I was the only
speaker. I literally talked. He is anxious about his eyes.
]*atterson calls it " congestion." The C. says that the
London fog tries them. He was just down — two o'clock or
half past two. He listened to the Oxford plan, half queru-
lously, and said that he thought the collection for St. Thomas
at Rome would interfere with getting money from the
Continent.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

Newman to Mother Imelda Poole.

' The Oratory : November i6th, 1864.

' We shall have plenty of trials in time, but at present the
sky is very clear and bright, and the landscape is rose-colour.
Alas, that bright mornings are the soonest overcast ! So
great a work cannot be done without great crosses, — yet I
don't like to say so, for it is like prophesying against myself,
and I do not like trial at all. What is to happen if we are
not preserved in health and strength ! We have few enough
to work if we have our all — we have not a quarter of a Father
to spare — but we must leave all this to Him Who we trust is
employing us.'

Newman to Henry Wilberforce.

' The Oratory : November i6th, 1864.

* As to Oxford, we are astonished at our own doings —
and our only hope is that we are doing God's Will in thus
portentously involving ourselves both in money matters
and in work. I should like a long talk with you, though just
now I am confined to my room with a bad cold. My friends
here sent me away suddenly to the South Coast because I
was not quite well,— and, coming back from that delightful
climate to this keen one, I have been knocked up by it. I

' ' N.B. I afterwards had reason for thinking tliat a deep opposition to my
going to Oxford was the cause of the Cardinal's manner. Of this I was quite
unsuspicious.

'J. H. N. Nov. 4th, 1875.'

62 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

think I should h'vc ten years longer if I was at Hastings or
Brighton, but here, when I am older, a cold caught may
carry me off. Since I came back, I have been hard at the
letters which came in my absence, — so you must excuse my
delay in answering you.

' We are going to build a Church at once, and, though the
mission is very small at present, we are sanguine that we
shall increase it enough to make it pay the interest of our
great expenses. The Bishop has given us a strong letter,
and I trust we shall collect a large sum for the Church.
Everything looks favourable at the moment, but of course we
shall have plenty of crosses as time goes on.'

To Canon Walk?:r.

♦November 17, 1864. . . .

* There is just now a very remarkable feeling in my
favour at Oxford — a friend of mine, who has lately been
there, writes word " Unless I had seen it with my own
eyes, I could not have believed how strong is the attach-
ment, for that is the word, with which you are regarded
by all parties up there." A head of a House says " every
one would welcome you in Oxford." An undergraduate
writes to me : " There is a report that you were at Oriel last
Friday incognito ; it caused great excitement, I am sure,
if it were known you were coming here on any particular
day, the greater part of the University would escort you in
procession into the Town." Do not mention all this — of
course I cannot reckon on the feeling lasting, but it is
hopeful, as a beginning. The whole course of things has
been wonderful — and there seems to me a call on me to
follow it, without looking forward to the future. If we
come to a cul-de-sac, we must back out.'

The grounds of fear put forward in the letter to Mother
Imelda Poole read as the suggestings of a morbid fancy.
But the instinct which prompted his anxiety proved a true
one. W. G. Ward during the two years in which he had
edited the Dublin Review had developed and defined his
viev/s on Catholic culture in opposition to what he regarded
as the secularist spirit of the Rambler and Home and
Foreign. He regarded the prospect of Catholics going to
Oxford as a surrender of the whole situation. The rising
generation, the future representatives of the Church in
England, would be at Oxford during the most plastic years

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (i 864-1 865) 63

in which their views were being formed and their characters
moulded, surrounded by the indifferentist atmosphere of a
University in which some of the ablest thought was now
agnostic in its tendency. With all the zeal of a Crusader
he opposed the project. He did not in his writings on the
subject enter into the considerations which the Moderate
party urged. He did not deal with the individual cases
where the absence of Oxford life might conceivably do
much more harm than its presence could do. For many,
the alternative was Woolwich or Sandhurst — places fraught
with far greater dangers than Oxford to those whose trials
were moral rather than intellectual. Again, he did not
treat of the practical prospects of those rich young men to
whom the prospect of a career — so difficult to realise if the
Universities were tabooed — is the best safeguard against
very obvious temptations to a life of pleasure. He was
exclusively occupied with the necessity of making loyalty
to Church authority and other religious first principles
supremely influential in the rising generation, by jealously
guarding these principles in youth and early manhood.
More than all, he dreaded the insidious intellectual and
worldly maxims of a secular University — the principles of
' religious Liberalism ' as he called them. Such maxims
were calculated so to dilute the Catholic ' ethos ' at the most
critical moment in the formation of character as to bring up
a generation of merely nominal Catholics.

' Since the season of childhood and youth is immeasurably
the most impressible of all,' he wrote in the Dublm Review,
' it is impossible to exaggerate the importance of preserving
the purity of a Catholic atmosphere throughout the whole
of Catholic education. . . . Even intellectually speaking, no
result can well be more deplorable than that which tends to
ensue from mixed education. There is no surer mark of an
uncultivated mind, than that a man's practical judgment on
facts as they occur, shall be at variance with the theoretical
principles which he speculatively accepts. . . . Now this
is the natural result of mixed education. The unhappy
Catholic who is so disadvantageously circumstanced tends to
become the very embodiment of inconsistency. Catholic in
his speculative convictions, non-Catholic in his practical
judgments ; holding one doctrine as a universal truth, and

64 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

a doctrine precisely contradictory in almost every particular
which that universal truth embraces.'

Ward had many sympathisers in his attitude — among
them Dr. Grant, Bishop of Southwark, and his own intimate
friends the two future Cardinals, Manning and Vaughan. At
the news of Newman's plan, these men made urgent repre-
sentations to Propaganda and to Cardinal Wiseman as to the
necessity of immediate action being taken to prevent its
going further. Newman's presence at Oxford would mean
past recovery the triumph of mixed education. Ward wrote
to Talbot at the Vatican to secure Propaganda on the anti-
Oxford side. Vaughan went to Rome itself.

In Rome there was every disposition to take a strong line
against mixed education, for the national Universities in the
countries with which the authorities were most familiar were
positively anti-Christian, and young men rarely emerged froni
them with definite Christian belief. Even in a country where
Catholicism was as strong as it was in Belgium the Catholic
University of Louvain was founded expressly to counteract
this danger. The whole tendency of the Ultramontane
movement was towards endeavouring to secure a body of
zealous and even militant young Catholics to fight the battles
of the Holy See and the Church. Governments and popula-
tions were no longer Catholic. The national life was hardly
anywhere Catholic. In such circumstances, to keep faith and
zeal intact it was necessary to withdraw from the world.
Education both primary and secondary must be suited to the
policy of falling back behind the Catholic entrenchments to
do battle with the modern spirit. Gregory XVI. and his
successor had both opposed the Queen's Colleges in Ireland.
When Ward, Manning, and Vaughan represented that Oxford
would turn out young men who were Catholics in name
only, Pius IX. was ready enough to believe that Oxford was
no better than Brussels ; that the best policy for Belgium
would prove the best policy for England. That the conditions
in the two countries were fundamentally diftcrent, that Oxford
was not a school of infidelity, that it might be even still open
to religious influences, was a thought which was probably not
sugf^estcd to him. Therefore, when Vaughan went to Rome

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864-1865) 65

as the ambassador of the party, he found ears ready enough
to listen to him at Propaganda.

The news of the proceedings of Ward and Manning, with
its ominous significance as to the inevitable sequel, burst upon
Newman a week after the hopeful letters we have just read.
Newman saw the gravity of the situation. His one hope was
in strong representations to Propaganda on the part of the
laity. He at once conveyed the intelligence of what had
occurred to Hope-Scott.

' The Bishops are to meet quam primuml he wrote to
Hope-Scott on November 23rd, ' not to settle the University
question, but to submit their opinions to Propaganda, that
Propaganda may decide. Propaganda seems to be at the
mercy of Manning, Ward, and Dr. Grant. For this meeting
does not proceed from the Bishops. It is not off the cards,
though, of course, very improbable, that going to O.xford will
be made a reserved case.

' Now I repeat what I have said before, that, unless the
Catholic gentry make themselves heard at Rome, a small
active clique will carry the day.'

Mr. Wetherell at once got up a lay petition to Propa-
ganda in favour of Catholics going to Oxford, and took it
himself to Rome early in the following year. But he accom-
plished nothing. Meanwhile Newman had an interview with
Bishop Ullathorne before the end of November and learnt
from him fully the condition of affairs. He writes of the
prospect despairingly to Hope-Scott on November 28 :

' At present I am simply off the rails. I do not know
how to doubt that the sudden meeting of the Bishops has
been ordered apropos of my going to Oxford. If I
can understand our Bishop, the notion is to forbid young
Catholics to go to Oxford, and to set up a University else-
where. If so, what have I to do with Oxford ? what call
have I, at the end of twenty years, apropos of nothing, to
open theological trenches against the Doctors and Professors
of the University ? '

In a few weeks the whole Oxford scheme was definitely

dropped. The Bishops met on December 13 and passed

resolutions in favour of an absolute prohibition of Oxford.

The confirmation of their act by Propaganda was not

VOL. II. F

66 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

doubtful. Propaganda had indeed informally intimated its
own judgment in the same direction.

But, moreover, a set of questions was drawn up and sent
to many leading Oxford converts, inviting their opinion
as to the advisability of Catholics going to Oxford. The
answers were to be sent to Propaganda for its enlightenment.
The questions were not sent to Newman or any of his
sympathisers. They implied in their form that an adverse
answer on each point was the only one open to a sound
Catholic. Their authorship I have been unable to discover.
But they were clearly drawn up by some one whose opposition
to the Oxford scheme was uncompromising. They were sent
by Dr. Grant, Bishop of Southwark, to Mr. Gaisford among
others, and Mr. Gaisford returned answers strongly favourable
to Catholics frequenting the Universities.^ These answers he
forwarded to Newman Vv^ith the text of the questions themselves.

Newman in a letter to Mr. Gaisford thus commented on
his answers and on the questions themselves :

' December i6th, 1864.

' I heard of the questions for the first time three days ago.
I had not seen them or any one of them till you sent them.
As for my own opinion, it has never been asked in any
shape.

' Such a paper of questions is deplorable — deplorable
because they are not questions but arguments, worse than
" leading questions." They might as well have been summed
up in one — viz., "Are you or are you not, one of those
wicked men who advocate Oxford education ? " for they
imply a condemnation of the respondent if he does not reply
in one tvay.

' I do not believe that the meeting, or the questions, came
from the Bishops. They come from unknown persons, who
mislead Propaganda, put the screw on the Bishops, and
would shut up our school if they could, — and perhaps will.

' As to our Bishop, I formally told him a month before
I bought the ground that, if I accepted the Mission, and
proposed to introduce the Oratory to O.xford, it was solely
for the sake of the Catholics in the Colleges. Yet he let
me go on. In truth he knew of no real difficulty or hitch in

' The text of the questions and of Mr. G.-iisford's reply is given in the
Appendix at p. 540,

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (i 864-1 865) 67

prospect. I believe the news of the intended Bishops'
meeting was a surprise to him.

' I think your letter and answers very good, very much
to the point. There is a straightforwardness in them which
must tell, if they are read.

' It is the laity's concern, not ours. There are those who
contrast the English laity with the Irish, and think that the
English will stand anything. Such persons will bully, if
they are allowed to do so ; but will not show fight if they
are resisted.'

By the end of the month it was quite clear to Newman
that the whole Oxford scheme was at an end, as he says in
a sad letter to Sister Imelda Poole of Stone :

' December 28th, 1864.

' As to the O.xford scheme it is still the Blessed Will of
God to send me baulks. On the whole, I suppose, looking
through my life as a course. He is using me, but really
viewed in its separate parts it is but a life of failures. My
Bishop gave me the Mission without my asking for it. I told
him that I should not think of going, except for the sake of
Catholic youths there, and with his perfect acquiescence I
bought the ground. It cost 8,400/. When all this had
been done there was an interposition of Propaganda, for
which I believe he was absolutely unprepared, and the more
so, because, as I heard at the time, the collected Bishops had
last year recommended Propaganda to do nothing in the
Oxford question. However, on the news coming to certain
people in London that I was going to Oxford, they influenced
Propaganda to interfere, and the whole scheme is, I conceive,
at an end. Of course, if Propaganda brings out any letter of
disapproval of young Catholics going to Oxford, (and people
think it is certain to do so) my going there is either super-
fluous, or undutiful — superfluous if there are no Catholics
there — undutiful if my going is an inducement to them, or an
excuse and shelter for their going there ? '

To the same effect he wrote to Miss Giberne, adding as a
postscript, * does it not seem queer that the two persons who
are now most opposed to me are Manning and Ward ? '

And so four short months saw the dawn, the promise, the
defeat of the hopeful dreams which the success of the
* Apologia ' had kindled.

The expected rescript from Propaganda came early in
1865, and Newman wrote of it thus to Mr. John Pollen :

F 2

68 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Have you seen the sweepintj sentence of the Bishops
on the Oxford matter ? I consider that Propaganda has
ordered the Bishops to be of one mind, and they have
not been able to help it, and that Manning has persuaded
Propaganda.

' It is to be observed that they do not order their clergy
to dissuade parents, but give their judgment for the guidance
of the Clergy. This I interpret to mean (i) that each case
of going to Oxford is to be taken by itself, (2) that leave is
to be asked by parents in the Confessional.

' But so far is clear, that, unless Wetherell brings some
modification from Rome (which I don't think he will) no
School, as ourselves, can educate with a professed view to
Oxford. The decision includes the London University and
Trinity College, Dublin.

' It seems as if they wanted to put down the whole matter
at once. And I suppose they will follow it up by some
attempted organisation of English Education generally. I
never should be surprised if our School was directly or
indirectly attacked.'

Mr. Wetherell and his deputation had, as I have inti-
mated, no success : got indeed barely a hearing. Newman's
friends urged him to go in person to Rome, but he knew that
he could effect nothing against the active campaign of
Manning and Ward aided by Mgr. Talbot at the Vatican
itself. His feelings on the situation are expressed in the
following letters to Miss Bowles :

' March 31st, 1865.

' I was going to write a long answer to your letter, but it
is far too large and too delicate a subject to write about. If
I ever had an hour with you, I could tell you a great deal.
No, — you do not know facts, and know partially or incor-
rectly those which you know. You say what you would do
in my case, if you were a man ; and I should rather say what
1 would do in my case, if I were a wOi.ian, — for it was
St. Catherine who advised a Pope, and succeeded, but
St. Thomas of Canterbury and St. Edmund tried and failed.
I am too much of a philosopher too to have the keen energy
necessary for the work on which you put me. Yet observe,
Lacordaire, with whom I so much .sympathize, was a fiery
orator and a restless originator, — yet he failed, as I have
failed.

* Look at the whole course of this Oxford matter. The
Bishops have just brought out their sweeping decision, unani-

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864- 1865) 69

mously. Unanimously, because Propaganda orders it. Who
directs Propaganda ? What pains did they (the Cardinal)
take in England to get opinions? As for myself, no one in
authority has ever asked me. I never saw the questions (till
afterwards) — few did — and what questions — leading ques-
tions and worse — arguments, not questions. The laity told
nothing about it. The laity go to Propaganda. Cardinal
Barnabo talks by the half hour, not letting anyone else
speak, and saying he knows all about it already, and wants
no information, for Mgr. Talbot has told him all about it.
What chance should / have with broken Italian (they don't,
can't, talk Latin)? I kno%v what chance. I had to go to
him nine years ago, — he treated me in the same way —
scolded me before he knew what I had come about ; and I
went on a most grave matter, sorely against my will. No —
we are in a transition time and must wait patiently, though
of course the tempest will last through our day.'

•May 1st, 1865.

* I inclose a post office order for 5/. . . . As to the rest,
I wish it to go in a special kind of charity, viz. in the
instrumental as I may call them, and operative methods of
your own good works, — that is, not in meat, and drink, and
physic, or clothing of the needy, but (if you will not be
angry with me) in your charitable cabs, charitable umbrellas,
charitable boots, and all the wear and tear of a charitable
person who, without such wear and tear, cannot do her
charity.

' As to Catholic matters, there is nothing like the logic
of facts. This is what I look to — it is a sad consolation —
but Catholics won't stand such standing still for ever. And
then, when much mischief is done, and more is feared, some-
thing will be attempted in high quarters. . . .

' A great prelate (Dr. Ullathorne) said to me years ago,
when I said that the laity needed instruction, guidance,
tenderness, consideration, &c., &c. : "You do not know them,
Dr. N., our laity are a peaceable body — they are peaceable."
I understood him to mean : " They are grossly ignorant and
unintellectual, and we need not consult, or consult for them
at all." . . , And at Rome they treat them according to the
tradition of the Middle Ages, as, in " Harold the Dauntless"
the Abbot of Durham treated Count Witikind. Well, facts
alone will slowly make them recognise the fact of what a
laity must be in the 19th century if it is to cope with
Protestantism.'

70 LIFE OF CARDINAL NLWiMAN

Further reflections of interest on the Oxford question as
a whole and on the prospect for the future are contained
in the following letters :

To Miss Holmes.

« The Oratory, Bm. : Feb. 7th, '65.

' As to Oxford and Cambridge, it is quite plain that
the Church ought to have Schools (Universities) of her own.
She can in Ireland — she can't in England, a Protestant
country. How are you to prepare young Catholics for
taking part in life, in filling stations in a Protestant country
as England, without going to the English Universities ?
Impossible, Either then refuse to let Catholics avail them-
selves of these privileges, of going into Parliament, of taking
their seat in the House of Lords, of becoming Lawyers,
Commissioners etc. etc. or let them go there, where alone they
wall be able to put themselves on a par with Protestants.
Argument the ist.

' 2. They will get more harm in London life than at
Oxford or Cambridge. A boy of 19 goes to some London
office, with no restraint — he goes at that age to Oxford or
Cambridge, and is at least under some restraint.

' 3. Why are you not consistent, and forbid him to go
into the Army ? why don't you forbid him to go to such an
" Academy " at Woolwich ? He may get at Woolwich as
much harm in his faith and morals as at the Universities.

' 4. There are two sets at Oxford. What Fr. B. says of
the good set being small, is bosh. At least I have a right
to know better than he. What can he know about my means
of knowledge ? I was Tutor (in a very rowing College, and
was one of those who changed its character). I was Dean
of discipline — I was Pro-proctor. The good set was not a
small set — tho' it varied in number in different colleges.'

To Mr. Hope-Scott.

'April 28th, 1865.

• It boots not to go through the Oxford matter, now
(at least for the time) over. I believe the majority of the
Bishops were against the decision, to which they have
publicly committed themselves ; and what is to take the
place of Oxford, I know not. Our boys go on well till they
get near the top of the school — but, when they are once put
into the fifth or si.xth form, they languish and get slovenly —
i.e. for want of a stimulus. They have no object before them.

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864-1865) 71

And then again, parents come to me and say : " What are
we to do with Charlie and Richard ? Is he to keep company
with the gamekeeper on his leaving school ? Is he to be
toadied by all the idle fellows about the place ? Is he to get
a taste for low society ? How caji Oxford be worse than this ?
Is he to have a taste for anything beyond that for shooting
pheasants ? Is he to stagnate with no internal resources, and
no power of making himself useful in life ? " As to such
fellows being likely to have their faith shaken at Oxford, that
(at least) their parents think an absurdity, and so do I. Of
course it is otherwise with more intellectual youths, — though
at present I am credibly informed there is a singular reaction
in Oxford in favour of High Church principles ; and, though
I can understand a Catholic turning Liberal, my imagination
fails as to the attempt to turn him into a Puseyite.'

With this letter should be read a sentence in another
written a week earlier to St. John, which shows that, with
this as with so much else, his last word was ' patience.'
Oxford might be open to another generation of Catholics,
though he would no longer be there to guide them :

' Rednal : April 2lst, 1865.

' This morning I have made up my mind, as the only
way of explaining the way in which all the Bishops but two
turned round, that the extinguisher on Oxford was the Pope's
own act. If so, we may at once reconcile ourselves to it.
Another Pontiff in another generation may reverse it'

The year 1893 — three years after Newman had himself
passed away — saw the realisation, under the Pontificate of
Leo XHI., of the hope expressed in this letter.

The failure of the Oxford scheme was regarded by
Newman as final so far as his own lifetime went. And he
sold the ground he had bought. The disappointment did
not, however, crush Newman as earlier ones had done. His
habit of patience had grown on him, and seems to have
given him more of strength and calmness. ' The obedient
man shall speak of victory.' Moreover he had seen signs,
in the strong support he now had among Catholics, that his
own views might one day prevail. And the success of the
' Apologia ' was an accomplished fact.

72 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

In the first half of 1865 came a lull in the acute dis-
cussions of the hour. In February 1865 Cardinal Wiseman
passed away, and it was uncertain what ecclesiastical powers
would come to the front in England. An entry in the
journal records Newman's feelings at this time :

' February 22nd, 1865.

' I have just now looked over what I wrote on January 21st
1863. My position of mind now is so different from what it
was then, that it would require many words to bring it out.
First, I have got hardened against the opposition made to
me, and have not the soreness at my ill-treatment on the part
of certain influential Catholics which I had then, — and this
simply from the natural effect of time — just as I do not feel
that anxiety which I once had that we have no novices. I
don't know that this recklessness is a better state of mind
than that anxiety. Every year I feel less and less anxiety
to please Propaganda, from a feeling that they canjiot under-
stand England. Next, the two chief persons whom I felt to
be unjust to me are gone, — the Cardinal and Faber. Their
place has been taken by Manning and Ward ; but somehow,
from my never having been brought as closely into contact
with either of them as with the Cardinal and Faber, I have
not that sense of their cruelty which I felt so much as regards
the two last mentioned. Thirdly, in the last year a most
wonderful deliverance has been wrought in my favour, by the
controversy of which the upshot was my " Apologia." It has
been marvellously blest, for, while I have regained, or rather
gained, the favour of Protestants, I have received the ap-
probation, in formal Addresses, of good part of the [Catholic]
clerical body. They have been highly pleased with mc, as
doing them a service, and I stand with them as I never did
before. Then again, it has pleased Protestants, and of all
parties, as much or more. When I wrote those sharp letters,
as I did very deliberately, in June 1862, in consequence of the
reports circulated to the effect that I was turning Protestant,
I at once brought myself down to my lowest point as regards
popularity, yet, by the very force of my descent, I prepared
the way for a rebound. It was my lowest point, yet the
turning point. When A.B. wrote to remonstrate with me
on the part of my Protestant friends, I answered him by
showing how unkindly they had treated me for 17 years, — so
much so that they had no right to remonstrate. This
touched Keble. Moreover, it happened just then that,
independent of this, Copcland, having met me accidentally in

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864-1865) 73

London, came to see us here, and he spread such a kind
report of me that Keble wrote to me, Rogers visited me
(August 30th, 1863) and Church proposed to do so.
Williams too wished to come and see me, — but he had never
lost sight of me. The kind feeling was growing, when
(Copeland accidentally being here) I began the Kingsley
controversy, the effect of which I need not enlarge on. I
have pleasant proofs of it every day. And thus I am in a
totally different position now to what I was in January 1863.
And my temptation at this moment is, to value the praise of
men too highly, especially of Protestants — and to lose some
portion of that sensitiveness towards God's praise which is so
elementary a duty.

' On all these accounts, though I still feel keenly the way
in which I am kept doing nothing, I am not so much pained
at it, — both because by means of my " Apologia " I am (as I
feel) indirectly doing a work, and because its success has put
me in spirits to look out for other means of doing good,
whether Propaganda cares about it or no. Yet still it is very
singular that the same effective opposition to me does go on,
thwarting my attempts to act, and what is very singular, also
■' avulso uno non deficit alter." Faber being taken away.
Ward and Manning take his place. Through them, especially
Manning, acting on the poor Cardinal (who is to be buried
to-morrow), the Oxford scheme has been for the present
thwarted — for me probably for good — and this morning
I have been signing the agreement by which I shall sell my
land to the University. Bellasis told me that, from what he
saw at Rome, he felt that Manning was more set against my
going to Oxford, than merely against Catholic youths going
there. And now I am thrown back again on my do-nothing life
here — how marvellous ! yet, as I have drawn out above, from
habit, from recklessness, and from my late success, my feeling
of despondency and irritation seems to have gone.'

The ' do-nothing life,' as he termed it, meant occupation
with slight literary tasks — among them the editing of an
expurgated edition of Terence's 'Phormio' for the Edgbaston
boys to act. His leisure also led to more frequent correspon-
dence with old friends. He often wrote to R. W. Church
and Rogers. Rogers pressed him to come on a visit and
meet Church, but Newman could not at once bring him-
self to make the effort. In writing to Rogers he based his
refusal on the trials and troubles of advancing life, but in a
subsequent letter to Church we see a stronger reason at work.

74 I^IFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

To Sir Frederick Rogi^rs.

•The Oratory, Birm. : Dec. 20, 1864.

' Your offer is very tempting. I should like to be with you
and Lady Rogers, I should like to meet Church— and, not
the least pleasure would be to see your Mother and Sisters.
But I am an old man, oppressed with reasonable and un-
reasonable difficulties, in confronting such a proposition.
How do I know but I shall have a cold, which will prostrate
me ? Five years ago I had a slight attack in the bronchia —
and, when it has once occurred, it never quite goes ; and if I
had ever so little return of it, I should have great difficulty in
shaking it off. I go on expecting it all through the winter,
and never get through without a touch, sooner or later, I
begin to understand old Routh's excessive care of himself ;
for if I neglected myself an hour or two I might be in for it.
Then again in other ways, though my health is ordinarily
good, nay tough, I am prostrated for half a day ; after a quiet
evening and good night I am right again. Then I am a sort
of savage who has lost manners. Except once at Hope-
Scott's, and once at Henry Bowden's, and a day or two at
W. Wilberforce's last year, I have not been in a friend's house
these 20 years — and I should not know how to behave. If
I made an engagement with you, I should go on fidgetting
myself till the time comes, lest I should be unable to keep it
— and if I don't make one, then I am sure not to go to you.
And thus you have the measure of me.'

To R. W. Church.

' The Oratory, Bm. : Dec. 21/64.

' I wrote to Rogers yesterday, in more than doubt whether
I could accept his offer. Of course I should like extremel}'
to meet whether you or him, and much more both of you
together — but I am an old man — and subject to colds and
slight ailments which make me slow in committing myself to
engagements. And then a profound melancholy might come
on me to find myself in the presence of friends so dear to me,
and so divided from me. And therefore, like a coward, I
have declined. I could bear one, better than two.

' I want very much to see you, and think it most kind in
you to think of going the long way whether to London or to
Birmingham for my sake — but here again I should prefer the
summer to the winter for your visit, for Brummagem is a
dirty, unattractive place — and we have no indoor amuse-
ments. In the summer I should ask you to go over to our
cottage at Rednal — but in winter, unless I went out with you

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (i 864-1 865) 75

shooting, or mounted you for the hunt, or went sliding or
skating with you, what could I do ? so that I have the same
reluctance to ask you in winter, as you seem to have in asking
me in the same season to Whatley.'

Newman did pay a visit on April 26, 1865, to another old
friend, Isaac Williams. ' I had not seen him for twenty-two
years,' he wrote to R. VV. Church. ' Of course I did not know
him at all, as I daresay you would not know me. Pattison
did not know me a year or two ago, though I knew him. If
all is well I shall come and see you some time or other,
and take Williams again on my way.' A week later Isaac
Williams was dead.

In the summer Church and Rogers combined to give
Newman a violin. The prospect of its arrival greatly excited
Newman and made him almost scrupulous.

' I only fear,' he writes to Rogers on June 25, 'that I may
give time to it more than I ought to spare. I could find
solace in music from week to week's end. It will be curious,
if I get a qualm of conscience for indulging in it, and, as a set
off, write a book. I declare I think it is more likely to [make
me] do so than anything else — I am so lazy. It is likely
that a note I have written upon Liberalism in my 2nd
Edition of the "Apologia" will bring criticisms on me, which I
ought to answer. Now I am so desperately lazy that I shall
not be able to get myself to do so ; and then it strikes me
that, in penance for the violin, I suddenly may rush into
work in a fit of contrition.'

The instrument arrived early in July, and Newman was
fairly overcome by the music he loved so intensely, and which
for many years he had set aside lest it should interfere with
the graver duties of life.^ He writes to Dean Church his
grateful thanks on July 1 1

' My dear Church, — I have delayed thanking you for your
great kindness in uniting with Rogers in giving me a fiddle,
till I could report upon the fiddle itself The Warehouse
sent me three to choose out of — and I chose with trepidation,
as fearing I was hardly up to choosing well. And then my
fingers have been in such a state, as being cut by the strings,

' He told my father that he did not believe he had really gained any benefit
from this self-denial. Music was so great a joy that it intensified his powers of
work.

76 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

that up to Saturday last I had sticking plaster upon their
ends — and therefore was in no condition to bring out a
good tune from the strings and so to return good for evil.
But on Saturday I had a good bout at Beethoven's Quartctts
— which I used to play with poor Blanco White — and thought
them more exquisite than ever — so that I was obliged to lay
down the instrument and literally cry out with delight. How-
ever, what is more to the point, I was able to ascertain that I
had got a very beautiful fiddle — such as I never had before.
Think of my not having a good one till I was between sixty
and seventy — and beginning to learn it when I was ten !
However, 1 really think it will add to my power of working,
and the length of my life. I never wrote more than when I
played the fiddle. I always sleep better after music. There
must be .some electric current passing from the strings
through the fingers into the brain and down the spinal
marrow. Perhaps thought is music.

' I hope to send you the " Phormio " almost at once.

' Ever yrs. affly.,

' John H. Newman.'

A more serious occupation of this time was the writing
of the ' Dream of Gerontius.' Newman had, in the middle of
the Kingsley controversy, been seized with a very vivid
apprehension of immediately impending death, apparently
derived from a medical opinion — so vivid as to lead him to
write the following memorandum headed, ' written in pro-
spect of death,' and dated Passion Sunday, 1864, 7 o'clock
A.M. :

' I write in the direct view of death as in prospect. No one
in the house, I suppose, suspects anything of the kind. Nor
anyone anywhere, unless it be the medical men.

' I write at once — because, on my own feelings of mind
and body, it is as if nothing at all were the matter with me,
just now ; but because I do not know how long this perfect
possession of my sensible and available health and strength
may last.

' I die in the faith of the One Holy Catholic Apostolic
Church. I trust I shall die prepared and protected by her
Sacraments, which our Lord Jesus Chri.st has committed to
her, and in that communion of Saints which He inaugurated
when He ascended on high, and which will have no end. I
hope to die in that Church which Our Lord founded on Peter,
and which will continue till Llis second coming.

CATHOLICS AT OXFORD (1864-1865) 77

' I commit my soul and body to the Most Holy Trinity,
and to the merits and grace of our Lord Jesus, God Incar-
nate, to the intercession and compassion of our dear Mother
Mary ; to St. Joseph ; and St. Philip Neri, my father, the
father of an unworthy son ; to St. John the Evangelist ; St.
John the Baptist ; St. Henry ; St. Athanasius, and St. Gregory
Nazianzen ; to St. Chrysostom, and St. Ambrose.

' Also to St. Peter, St. Gregory I. and St. Leo. Also to
the great Apostle, St. Paul.

' Also to my tender Guardian Angel, and to all Angels,
and to all Saints.

' And I pray to God to bring us all together again in
heaven, under the feet of the Saints. And, after the pattern
of Him, who seeks so diligently for those who are astray, I
would ask Him especially to have mercy on those who are
external to the True Fold, and to bring them into it before
they die.

' J. H. N.'

A letter to Father Coleridge written later in the same
year ^ shows him still dwelling on the thought of his own
death, and suggests that the fear of paralysis which he
had expressed in a letter to W. G. Ward seven years earlier,
had come upon him once again on receiving the intelligence
that Keble had had a stroke.

' Paralysis,' he writes, ' has this of awfulness, that it is
so sudden. I wonder, when those anticipations came on
Keble in past time, whether they were founded on symptoms,
or antecedent probability ; for I have long feared paralysis
myself I have asked medical men, and they have been
unable to assign any necessary premonitory symptoms ; nay,
the very vigorousness and self-possession (as they seem) of
mind and body, which ought to argue health, are often the
proper precursors of an attack. This makes one suspicious
of one's own freedom from ailments. VVhately died of
paralysis — so did Walter Scott — so (I think) Southey — and,
though I cannot recollect, I observe the like in other cases
of literary men. Was not Swift's end of that nature .■* I
wonder, in old times, what people died of We read, " After
this, it was told Joseph that his father was sick." " And the
days of David drew nigh that he should die." What were
they sick — what did they die of? And so of the great
Fathers. St. Athanasius died past 70 — was his a paralytic
seizure ? We cannot imitate the martyrs in their deaths, but

' On December 30, 1864.

78 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

I sometimes feel it would be a comfort if we could associate
ourselves with the great Confessor Saints in their illness and
decline. I'ope St. Gregory had the gout. St. Basil had a
liver complaint, but St. Gregory Nazianzen ? St. Ambrose ?
St. Augustine and St. Martin died of fevers proper to old
age. But my paper is out.'

Now, after the abandonment of the Oxford scheme gave
him leisure for it, he set down in dramatic form the vision of
a Christian's death on which his imagination had been dwell-
ing. The writing of it was a sudden inspiration, and his
work w^as begun in January and completed in February
1865. ' On the 17th of January last,' he writes to Mr. Allies
in October, ' it came into my head to write it, I really can't
tell how. And I wrote on till it was finished on small bits of
paper, and I could no more write anything else by willing it
than I could fly.' To another correspondent ' also, who was
fascinated by the Dream, and longed to have the picture it
gave still further filled in, he wrote :

' You do me too much honour if you think I am to see in
a dream everything that is to be seen in the subject dreamed
about. I have said what I saw. Various spiritual writers
see various aspects of it ; and under their protection and
pattern I have set down the dream as it came before the
sleeper. It is not my fault if the sleeper did not dream more.
Perhaps something woke him. Dreams are generally frag-
mentary. I have nothing more to tell.'

The poem appeared in the Jesuit periodical, the MontJi,
then edited by his friend, Father Coleridge, in the numbers
for April and May. When it was republished in November
it was dedicated to the memory of Father Joseph Gordon in
the following words, dated on All Souls' Day :

' Fratri desideratissimo
Joanni Joseph Gordon,
Oratorii S.P.N. Presbytcro
Cujus animam in refrigcrio.

T. H. N.'

' The Rev. John Telforcl, priest at R)de.

CHAPTER XXII

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866)

The unbending opposition of Manning and Ward to the
Oxford scheme was marked, no doubt, by the special charac-
teristics of these two men. But the general policy they
enforced was that of Rome. The opposition to mixed edu-
cation was, as we have already seen, a part of the general
opposition of Rome to anything that might infect Catholics
with the principles and maxims of a civilisation which
threatened to become more and more hostile to the
Church's claims. Pius IX. had for years been emphasising
and reprobating the divorce of modern civilisation from
the Catholic Church, in a series of public utterances. He
was the first Pope who reigned after Gallicanism was prac-
tically defunct, and the spirit represented in De Maistre's
great work * Du Pape ' had triumphed. In former
Pontificates an Encyclical letter had been a rare event
called for by some exceptional crisis. But under Pius IX.
came a new departure, which has since been pursued by his
successors, of issuing frequent Allocutions and Encyclical
letters on questions of the day. Louis Veuillot and his friends
had long pressed for a yet more emphatic condemnation
of the offences of the modern world, and in December 1864
Pius IX. issued the famous ' Syllabus ' and the Encyclical
Quanta Cura. The Quanta Cura renewed the Papal protests
of fifteen years. The Syllabus Errorum was a list of the
propositions condemned as erroneous in earlier Encyclicals
and Allocutions. The fresh emphasis given to the Papal pro-
tests by their collection and republication and the vehement
tone of the Encyclical created a great sensation. There was
an outcry in England, and the Holy Father was said to
have declared war aorainst modern civilisation. The more

8o LIFE OJ' CARDINAL NEWMAN

moderate Catholics, like Bishop Dupanloup, regretted the
appearance of the Syllabus Errorinn} They held that its
general purport was sure to be interpreted by the public as
being in accord with the views of the extreme party which
had pressed for its issue. Dupanloup published a com-
ment on its text, in which he contended that interpretation
according to the rules of technical theology would reduce
the scope of its condemnations to little or nothing more
than a statement of Christian principles in the face of a
non-Christian civilisation. Nevertheless it was the party of
Louis Veuillot whose interpretation was, in fact — as Dupan-
loup had feared beforehand — regarded by the world at large
as the authoritative one ; and people quoted the ' Syllabus '
as ruling to be unorthodox the aims and views of ' Liberal '
Catholics — a term which had been applied to such devoted
sons of the Church as Montalcmbert and Lacordaire as well
as to free lances like Lord Acton and Professor Friedrich.
For the Univers and the Monde all Liberal Catholics had
one head, and the Encyclical cut it off. * Every Liberal,' we
read in the Monde of January lo, 1865, 'falls necessarily
under the reprobation of the Encyclical. In vain is equivo-
cation attempted by distinguishing the true Liberal and the
false Liberal.' Newman had from the first, as we have seen,
largely sympathised with the policy of moderate Liberal
Catholics (so called) like Lacordaire and Montalcmbert.
And he shared their anxiety as to the effect of the 'Syllabus*
on the public mind, especially in England. He of course
received the Encyclical with the submission due to all that
came from the Holy See ; but his general feeling as to its
effect on the position of English Catholics is sufficiently ap-
parent in the following letter to Father Ambrose St. John,
who was staying at Oxford soon after its publication.

* I am glad you are seeing the Puseyites. I suppose they
will be asking you questions about the Encyclical. There
are some very curious peculiarities about it, which make it
difficult to speak about it, till one hears what theologians say.
Condemned propositions are (so far as I know, or as Henry
or Stanislas know), propositions taken out of some book, the
statements " libri cujusdam auctoris." These are not such,

' See infra, p. loi.

^H

mg^

smii^^mm^iiiiSBi

IIK»«-l^.^

B

kt^Z

u

^Hr»\j

ll

m

1^^

■1

m

\

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 81

nor do they pretend to be, — they are abstract propositions.
Again, the Pope in condemning propositions condemns the
books or statements of Catholics, — not of heathen or un-
baptized, for what has he to do in judging " those that are
without"? Now these propositions are mostly the pro-
positions of " AcathoHci." Moreover, it is rather a Syllabus
of passages from his former allocutions, &c., than a Syllabus
of erroneous utterances. And accordingly he does not affix
the epithets, " haeresi proximae, scandalosae, &c." but merely
heads the list as a " Syllabus of errors." Therefore it is
difficult to know what he means by his condemnation. The
words " myth," "non-interference," "progress,"" toleration,"
"new civilisation," are undefined. If taken from a book, the
book interprets them, but what interpretation is there of
popular slang terms ? " Progress," e.g., is a slang term. Now
you must not say all this to your good friends, but I think
you will like to know what seems to be the state of the case.
First, so much they ought to know, that we are bound to
receive what the Pope says, and not to speak about it.
Secondly, there is little that he says but would have been
said by all high churchmen thirty years ago, or by the Record
or by Keble now. These two points your friends ought to
take and digest. For the rest, all I can say {entre nous)
is that the advisers of the Holy Father seem determined to
make our position in England as difficult as ever they can.
I see tJiis issue of the Encyclical, — others I am not in a
position to see. If, in addition to this, the matter and form
of it are unprecedented, I do not know how we can rejoice in
its publication.'

The extreme party took action at this time in another
matter besides the ' Syllabus ' and the Oxford question.
The Association for the Promotion of the Unity of Christen-
dom had been vigorously denounced in Rome by Faber
and by Manning and Ward, and was condemned by the
Holy Office in a letter ' to the English Bishops ' in the
autumn of 1864. Catholics were forbidden to belong to the
Association. Manning held that the efforts of the .society
discouraged conversions to the Catholic Church.

Newman had declined to join the A.P.U.C. (as it was
called), but other Catholics, while making clear their rejection
of the Anglican theory of ' three branches,' had given their
names to it. And Newman himself deplored the spirit that
pressed for extreme measures against it.

VOL. II. G

82 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' I cannot help,' he wrote to Father Coleridge, ' feeling
sorrow at the blow struck by the Holy Office at the members
of the A.P.U C. . . . and now if they are led to suppose that
all Catholics hold with Ward and Faber, we shall be in a
melancholy way to seconding that blow.'

To Mr. Ambrose Phillipps de Lisle he wrote in the same

strain :

' February 13th, 1865.

' I feel quite as you do on the Oxford question and the
other questions you introduce, but it is one's duty to submit.
For myself, I did not see my way to belong to the Union
Association — but I think its members have been treated
cruelly. As to the Encyclical, without looking at it
doctrinally, it is but stating a fact to say that it is a heavy
blow and a great discouragement to us in England. There
must be a re-action sooner or later — and vvc must pray God
to bring it about in His good time, and meanwhile to give us
patience.'

Newrnan's calm estimate of the Encyclical and ' Syllabus '
was given ten years later in his letter to the Duke of
Norfolk in which he defended these documents against
Mr. Gladstone's attacks. At that time they could be read in
the light of their own text and of the comments of the theo-
logical school in the intervening period. But at the moment
when the above letters were penned the two documents came
upon the world together with the exaggerated interpretations
of militant Catholic journalists. They came to the world,
he complained, through newspapers which claimed them as
party utterances. His devotion to Pius IX. never wavered
nor his sympathy with him in the outrages of which he was
the object. But, like Dupanloup and many others, Newman
seems to have regretted an event which gave the opportunity
to Monsieur Veuillot and his friends of urging extreme views
in the Pope's name. It was hard to contradict these men
publicly without seeming, to unthinking Catholics, to take up
a lower level of loyalty than theirs, to show a less intense
aversion to the enemies of the Church.

The uncompromising spirit which Newman deplored was
nowhere more visible than in W. G. Ward's comments in
the Dublin Review, on the utterances of Pius IX., his
Allocutions, Briefs, and Encyclical letters. Ward remarked

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 83

on their unprecedented frequency, and treated them as in
consequence giving to Catholics of the nineteenth century
an unprecedented degree of infalHble guidance. He in-
terpreted the documents in exactly the opposite spirit to
Dupanloup, insisting that they condemned the views of
Montalembert and his friends. His articles had consider-
able influence. The fashion spread of regarding as 'disloyal '
those Catholics who were alive to the practical or intel-
lectual difficulties attaching to extreme views. The Dublin
Reviezu, coining a word, nicknamed them ' minimisers.'

The character and frequency of the utterances of Pius IX.
being to some extent a new phenomenon, theologians were
not at once prepared to estimate their exact authority. Even
W. G. Ward, who at first took the most extreme view,
eventually admitted in the course of controversy that the
Pontiff spoke at times, in his official utterances on doctrine,
not as Doctor Universalis or infallibly, but as Gitbcrnator doc-
trinalis •with, no claim to infallibility. But in 1864 he was
making unqualified statements which distressed Newman.
Ward boldly maintained ^ that Pius IX. spoke infallibly
far oftener than previous Pontiffs, and he rejoiced at the fact.
He pressed every doctrinal instruction, contained in a fresh
Encyclical, as binding on the conscience of every Catholic
under pain of mortal sin. Newman considered Ward's posi-
tion to be paradoxical, and was anxious to secure careful
and theological treatment of the situation.

Half a year after the publication of the ' Syllabus,'
W. G. Ward wrote to the Weekly Register declaring that
the Encyclical and ' Syllabus ' were beyond question the
Church's infallible utterances. Newman held that such a
statement if it passed unchallenged would drive many of those
who were living in the world and realised the difficulties
of the situation, towards Liberalism and freethought. He
knew that Ward's opinion was not that of the distinguished
theologian P^ather O'Reilly, with whom he had formerly
discussed the question, and he wrote to Father Bittleston,
who was in Ireland, proposing to publish a letter, with the
approval of Father O'Reilly, expressing the opposite opinion
to Ward's :

' Doctrinal Authority, p. 507.

G 2

84 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Pfivalc. Tlic Oratory, Bir'"*'" : July 29th, 65.

' My dear Henry, — I wish you would look at Ward's letter
in the Register oi \\\\s day. I am much tempted, almost as a
matter of duty, to write to the editor as follows :

' " Sir, — A sentence in a letter inserted in your paper
of last Saturday (Saturday 29th) runs thus : ' The recent
Encyclical and Syllabus are, beyond question, the Church's
infallible utterance.' I beg to say that I do not subscribe to
this proposition. '"JOHN H. Newman."

' My reason is, charity to a number of persons, chiefly
laymen, whom such doctrine will hurry in the direction of
Arnold.' There must be a stop put to such extravagances.

' My difficulty is, lest to do so, should bring some blow on
the Oratory.

' I write to you, however, principally for this : viz. I must
have a good theological opinion on my side, and whom am I
to consult ? It strikes Ambrose that Stanislas - is the best
person — but then, if he knows it is / who ask, he will not give
me an unbiassed judgment,

' So I want you to write to him calling his attention to the
letter — and asking him whether it would be theologically safe
for you or some other priest to put the above letter into the
paper. If he could be got to get Fr. O'Reilly's opinion in
confidence (not on the doctrine, but on the Catholic's liberty
of denying Ward's proposition as it stands) so much the
better, e.g. if Fr. O'Reilly could see viy letter, and were asked
simply "is that letter admissible Catholically, or is it not .-• "

' A more dignified way would be, if some layman wrote to
me, calling my attention to the proposition, and asking what
I thought of it, and my writing my letter in answer, and Jiis
putting it in the Paper. But this is a matter for future
consideration. . . .

' Ever yours affly,

J. H. N.'

The project fell through, as Father O'Reilly was not
disposed to move in the matter or to repeat in writing at
a critical juncture the opinion he had given earlier.

' Tlie Oratory, Binninghain : Aug. 4/65.

'My dear H., -Thank you for your and S.'s letters. Of
course it puts an end to the whole scheme.

' Mr. Thomas Arnold left the Catholic Church for a time.
- Father Stanislas Flanagan, at one lime an Oratorian, was stayii^g in Ireland at
this time. Father Flanagan was afterwards parish priest at Adarc.

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 85

'I. As to my bringing out my views, it is absurd.

'2. I fully think with S.,and have ever said, that we must
wait patiently for a re-action.

' 3. But if there are no protests, there will be no re-action.

' 4. I want simply a protest ; and that, as one out of a
number of accumulating pebbles which at length would fill
the urna divina.

' 5. I feel extremely (tho' I am only conjecturing) for a
number of laymen, especially converts — and for those who
are approaching the Church — who find all this a grievous
scandal.

' 6. But further, which is a practical point, if I am asked,
did this convert, that inquirer, or some controversialist appeal
to me and ask me, What aiii I to say ?

'7. What then am I to say ? This might come upon me
any day suddenly.

' It is best then to wait patiently and not to forestall
a crisis, but it is quite certain that any day I may be obliged
to give an answer. I really do wish I had a distinct opinion
given me as my safeguard, — in confidence of course.

' But after all, priests all thro' the countr}- will follow
Ward, if he is let alone — and how much more difficult will
a collision be ten years hence than now !

' I may not see that time — and I should care nothing for
any personal obloquy which might come on me now, so that
I am sure of viy ground. How very hard a man like Father
O'Reilly will not at least in confidence speak out I Unless
he has changed, I know he could not, simply, subscribe that
sentence.

' Ever yours affly,

J. H. X.'

Newman felt himself powerless to act. But he did not
rest until he had pressed his question home in Rome itself;
and eighteen months later he had the satisfaction of learning
from Ambrose St. John that the Roman theologians whom
he conversed with agreed with himself in withholding from
the Encyclical the character of an infallible utterance. This
fact is recorded in a letter to Mr. F. R. Ward.^

' 'Do I understand you to assume,' he writes to Mr. Ward on May 24, 1867,
'that the Encyclical of 1864 is Infallible.? They don't say so in Rome— as
Father St. John, who has returned, says distinctly.' His own final judgment is
recorded in his letter to the Duke of Norfolk— that the estimate of the authority
of such documents and of what, if .inything, they do teach infallibly, is a matter of
time and is the business of the Schola Theologorum, not a matter for the private

86 IJFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Cardinal Wiseman died in February 1865, but, as we have
seen, not before he had, under Manning's influence, both put
an end to the Oxford scheme and inflicted the blow already
spoken of on the Association for the Promotion of the Unity
of Christendom. Newman's mind went back to memories of
the Cardinal's early kindness to him, and he preached a sermon
on the work he had done, which made a marked impression
on the Oratorian Fathers. The great funeral followed, which
brought so astonishing a demonstration of interest and respect
that the Times declared that there had been nothing like it
since the funeral of the Duke of Wellington. Newman was
not present at the funeral.

He wrote of Wiseman to their common friend Dr. Russell
on March 2 :

' The Cardinal has done a great work — and I think has
finished it. It is not often that this can be .said of a man.
Personally I have not much to thank him for, since I was a
Catholic. He always meant kindly, but his impulses, kind as
they were, were evanescent, and he was naturally influenced
by those who got around him — and occupied his ear. In
passing through London last St. Charles's day, quite provi-
dentially (for I call it so) I called on him. He was then
very ill — but he saw me for ten minutes. I have not seen
him alone 6 or 7 times in the last 13 years. It was considerate
in the parties, whoever they were, concerned in his funeral
arrangements, that I was not asked to attend. I really
should not have been able without risk, yet it would have
been painful to refuse. What a wonderful fact is the recep-
tion given to his funeral by the population of London ! And
the newspapers remark that the son of that Lord Campbell,
who talked of trampling upon his Cardinal's Hat 14 years
ago, was present at the Requiem Mass.'

For a moment Newman hoped that the great pre-
dominance of Manning's influence in Rome, which meant
the still more intransigeant influence of his close ally W. G.
Ward, might come to an end with the Cardinal's death.

judgment of individual Catiiolics. So little can this be in some cases securely
detremined with certainly at first, that doctrines m.aylong be generally held to be
condemned which are afterwards considered allowable. At the same time, while
denying the dogmatic force of the Syllabus, Newman does not in the Letter deny
that Pius IX. issued the Encyclical Qi/an/a Cuia as Universal Doctor. Of this I
shall speak later on.

A NEW ARCHBISHOP ([865-1866) 87

Dr. Ullathorne was spoken of as a possible successor to
Wiseman, and had he been Archbishop, Newman's own in-
fluence in the Church would have been quite on a new footing.
But it was not to be. Manning himself was appointed by
the Holy See. With him as Archbishop, and Ward as his
counsellor and editor of the Dttblin Review, the prospect was
black indeed.

Newman's language on Manning's appointment was,
however, generous, though guarded.

' As to the new Archbishop,' he writes to a friend on
May 15, ' the appointment at least has the effect of making
Protestants see, to their surprise, that Rome is not distrustful
of converts, as such. On the other hand it must be a great
trial to the old Priesthood ; to have a neophyte set over them
all. Some will bear it very well, — I think our Bishop will-
but I cannot prophesy what turn things will take on the
whole. He has a great power of winning men where he
chooses. Witness the fact of his appointment, — but whether
he will care to win inferiors, or whether his talent extends to
the case of inferiors as well as superiors, I do not know.

' One man has one talent, another another. You speak
of me. I ha\'c generally got on well with juniors, but not
with superiors. My going to Rome, as you wish me, would
only be, as indeed it has been already, an additional instance
of this.'

To Mr. Ornsby, who lamented that Manning and not
Newman himself was to be placed at the head of English
Catholics, he writes on May 20 :

'Thank you for your notice of myself in re Archi-
episcopatus, but such preferment is not in my line. Were
it offered me I should unhesitatingly decline it, and my
unsuitableness is felt by those who determine these things
as fully as it is by myself. However, Manning's rise is
marvellous. In fourteen years a Protestant Archdeacon is
made Catholic Archbishop of Westminster, with the whole
body of old Catholics, — Bishops and all — under him. At
the moment he is very unpopular, but, I suppose, there will
be a reaction. Protestants cannot but be pleased to see an
Oxford man, a Fellow of Merton, a parson, make his way to
the top of the tree in such a communion as the Roman, —
and success is the goddess of an Englishman — " Te nos
facimus, Fortuna, deam." Then, as to Catholics, a man in

88 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

authority has such great opportunities of recovering his
ground, if he chooses to employ them. He will gradually
fill the Chapter with his own men. He will make Missionary
Rectors, and do private services. Then his great qualifi-
cations will overcome the laity. And he has such power of
persuasion that, if he chooses it, he will be able to bring
over the Bishops,'

The new Archbishop-elect began with conciliation. In-
deed, the general unpopularity of his appointment made
conciliation an urgent necessity. He offered to obtain for
Newman a titular Bishopric, but Newman declined. ' He
wants to put me in the House of Lords and muzzle me,*
Newman said. Indeed, the following letters show that he
made it a condition of attending the Archbishop's consecra-
tion that he should desist from any such attempt.

Dr. Manning to Dr. Newman.

' St. Joseph's Retreat : May 30, 1865.

' My dear Newman, — In calling to mind the old and dear
Friends who would pray for me at this moment your name
arose among the first ; and I cannot refrain from writing to
ask you to give me the happiness and consolation of your
being with me on the 8th of June next at Moorfields. No
one will better know than you how much I need your prayers.

' I will give directions that places shall be reserved for you,
and for Father St. John and that some one should be ready
to receive you if you will call at the house, 22 Finsbury Circus,
if you can kindly come.

' I was in Birmingham two months ago, and was starting
to see you when I found my time too short to reach you.

' I was glad to hear the other day that you are well and
strong.

' Believe me, always

Yours very affectionately,

H. E. Manning.*

Dr. Newman to Dr. Manning.

' May 31, 1865.

' My dear Archbishop, — On hearing of your appointment
I said Mass for you without delay. I will readily attend
your consecration — on one condition which I will state
presently. As I come as your friend, not as a Father of the
Birmingham Oratory, I do not propose to bring any other
Father with me. I am sure you will allow me to escape any

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 89

dinner or other meeting, as such public manifestations are so
much out of my way. Nor do they come into the object of
your asking me ; which is, as you have said, to have my
prayers at the function itself.

' The condition I make is this : — A year or two back I
heard you were doing your best to get me made a bishop
in partibus. I heard this from two or three quarters, and
I don't see how I can be mistaken. If so, your feeling towards
me is not unlikely to make you attempt the same thing now.
I risk the chance of your telling me that you have no such
intention, to entreat you not to entertain it. If such an
honour were offered to me, I should persistently decline it,
very positively, and I do not wish to pain the Holy Father,
who has always been so kind to me, if such pain can be
avoided. Your allowing me then to come to your con-
secration, I shall take as a pledge that you will have nothing
to do with any such attempts.

'J. H. N.'

Dr. Manning to Dr. Newman.

' June 4, 1865.
' My dear Newman, — It will be a happiness to me to
know that you are with me on Thursday. And I therefore
will not contest what you write. But if you have not
destroyed a letter I wrote you when what you refer to was
first intended many years ago, you will know my mind. I
think that such an intention ought not to have been
suspended. And I have for more than two years done my
part to accomplish it. I do not look upon it as a mere
decoration, but as having its fitness in many relations. You
have known me well enough to know that decorations have
no worth with either of us. But your wish must be final with
me. You will be able to come and go freely by the house
22 Finsbury Circus. But I hope you will let me see you. I
shall be there by a little after nine. I thank you much for
your kindness in saying Mass for me. I will not fail to do
so for you. And I thank you for the kind words with which
I believe you have commended me to the prayers of your
Flock.

' Believe me, always, my dear Newman,

Yours affectionately,

H. E. Manning.'

Newman came to London for the Archbishop's con-
secration on June 7, staying for the occasion with his old

90 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

friend, Sir Frederick Rogers. He planned at the same time

a farewell visit to Keble at Hursley — they had not met for

twenty years. This was, however, postponed ; but another

old friend, R. W. Church, was invited to meet him at Rogers'

house.

'The Oratory, Birmingham : June 4th, 1865.

' My dear Rogers, — I shall rejoice to see Church. As we
have put off the Hursley expedition, I shall have Copeland
alone in his nest at Farnham. I come up to town
Wednesday morning, get through various jobs and see
various people, and I propose to get to you by seven p.m.,
which, I consider, will be not later than your dinner hour.
It is Ember Day, but, as I shall have had a working day, I
mean to take the liberty of working men, and eat as much
roast beef as you will give me.

' The consecration is fixed as early as 10 a.m. Therefore
I shall have to beg a little breakfast before nine, and must
allow an hour for getting to Moorfields. 1 meant to have
asked you the name of a coach-keeper (what is the business
called i*) near you, from whom I could hire a brougham for
half a day. The service I expect will be very long, —
Dr. Ullathorne's consecration in 1846, the only one I was
ever at in England, was four hours. I don't wait for the
ddjeuner, if there be one ; but, as there will be lots of people
there, I shall find it difficult to get away. I want you to
keep me till Friday if you can. If so, I hope to dine with
you on Thursda)' as well as Wednesday.

' It is very pleasant the thought of seeing you in
Devonshire,— but I don't see the way to it.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

The meeting with Rogers was probably a pleasure more
free from sad associations than the ceremony at Moorfields.
Newman writes of it thus to Mrs. Froude :

* Nothing could be more easy and familiar than his
manners with me now. My surmise is, that he thinks
me a profoundly sceptical thinker, who, determined on
not building on an abyss, have, by mere strength of will,
bridged it over, and built upon my bridge — but that my
bridge, like Mahomet's coffin, is self suspended, by the
action of the will — but I may be putting it too strong. He
himself is not nearly so sceptical as I had feared. I like
Lady Rogers very much.'

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 91

One of the first things which claimed the attention of
the new Archbishop was the publication of Dr. Pusey's
' Eirenicon.' The action of Manning and of Rome in con-
nection with the A.P.U.C. naturally angered Pusey, and in
1865 he was engaged in writing an attack on extrava-
gances current among Catholics in belief and devotion.
These extravagances were represented by him as barriers
to reunion, but nevertheless he gave his book the name
of ' Eirenicon.' He made considerable use, in illustration of
his theme, of Faber's strong language on the Devotion to
the Blessed Virgin, and of Ward's articles in the Dublin
Review on Papal Infallibility. To this course, which he com-
municated to Newman in a letter before the book appeared,
Newman demurred. He did not consider that either Faber's
or Ward's views were representative. ' I believe,' he wrote
to Pusey in reference to Faber's writings, ' that judicious
people think them crude and young, perhaps extravagant.
He was a poet'

Of Ward he spoke in a letter dated September 5. Pusey
had written to his friend offering the gift of his book, and
wondering whether its appearance would call forth any com-
ment from the pen of Newman himself. Newman replied
as follows :

' The Oratorj', Birmingham : Sept. 5th, 1S65.

' P'or myself, I don't think I have v.^ritten anything
controversial for the last 14 years. Nor have I ever, as I
think, replied to any controversial notice of what I have
written. Certainly, I let pass without a word the various
volumes that were written in answer to my Essay on
Doctrinal Development, and that on the principle that Truth
defends itself and falsehood refutes itself,— and that, having
said my say, time would decide for me, without my trouble,
how far it was true, and how far not true. And I have
quoted Crabbe's lines as to my purpose, (though I can't
quote correctly) :

* Leaving the case to Time, who solves all doubt
By bringing Truth, his glorious daughter, out.

' This being so, I can't conceive I could feel it in any
sense an imperative duty to remark on anything you said in
your book. I daresay there is a great deal in which I should
agree. Certainly I so dislike Ward's way of going on, that
1 can't get myself to read the Dnblin. But on those points

92 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

I have said my say in my " Apologia " ; and, though I can't
see the future, am likely to leave them alone. A great attempt
has been made in some quarters to find (censurable) mistakes
in my book — but it has altogether failed, and I consider
Ward's articles to be impotent attempts to put down by
argument what is left safe in the domain of theological
opinion.

' But, while I would maintain my own theological
opinions, I don't dispute Ward the right of holding his, so
that he docs not attetnpt to impose them on me, — -nor do
I dispute the right of whoso will to use devotions to the
Blessed Virgin which seem to me unnatural and forced.
Did authority attem.pt to put them down while they do not
infringe on the great Catholic verities, I think it would act
as the Bishop of London is doing in putting down the devo-
tional observances of the Tractarian party at St. Michael's
and elsewhere. He is tender towards freethinkers, and
stern towards Romanisers. " Dat veniam corvis, vcxat
censura columbas." Now the Church of Rome is .severe
on freethinkers, and indulgent towards devotees.'

Some more letters were exchanged between Newman
and Pusey. But the two men were to meet soon — even
before the new book had reached Newman. And the meet-
ing was unexpected, dramatic, and somewhat painful.

Newman's deferred visit to Keble at Hursley was at
last arranged for September 13, Since August 4 they had
been corresponding as to its date. It was a great event in
prospect, and Newman's letters show how much it dwelt in
his mind. And he particularly wished to avoid — what in
the event happened — meeting Pusey at the same time. To
see both the old friends at once after such long separation
seemed to be more than he could bear.

'The Oratory, Birmiiic^ham : Auguf^t 4, 1865.

' My dear Keble, — You must not fancy I am forgetting to
avail myself of your welcome wish, because I have not yet
made my way to you. I find it very difficult to leave
home — just now, impossible. As it is vacation time, most of
our party are away — working hard, this is their only chance
of a holyday in the year. I am one of the few, who are here
to keep on the duties of the Church etc. Moreover, the
house, as empty of its natural inmates, is filled with plas-
terers, bricklayers, painters, carpenters, who arc having their

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 93

innings — and it does not do to let the place be simply in the
hands of Brummagem workmen.

' I don't like to promise anything — but it is my full
intention, when relieved of all this superintendence, to move
down to Hursley.

' So Gladstone has left you.' He came when I had ceased
to be an Oxford man — so I never had him. A very painful
separation, certainly, both for him and for all of you. Yet,
really, he does go great lengths — and I cannot help feeling
that the anxiety to keep him, on the part of such persons as
yourself, was quite as much on his own account as on account
of the University. He has lost his tether, now that the Con-
servatives have got rid of him — and won't he go lengths ? I
was pained at his "keep moving" speech. In saying all
this, I am putting myself in your place, (for I suppose he will
do good to us) but I declare, I should have been in great
perplexity, had I been an Oxford man, how to vote. I
suppose I should certainly in the event have voted for him —
but most grudgingly. None of his friends seem to trust his
politics — indeed he seems not to know himself what are his
landmarks and his necessary limits.

' Don't fancy I am saying this without the greatest
respect and liking for him (though I scarcely know him
personally) — all one can say is that the great deluge is
pouring in — and his boat is as good as another's. Who is
there to trust ? . . .

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

I append three more letters — two of them mere notes —
which bring before us Newman's sense of effort in making
his arrangements for the eventful meeting with his friend
after so many years of separation :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : September I, 1865.

' My dear Keble, — I have a great shrinking from pledging
myself, for sometimes I cannot fulfil, and therefore disappoint
the parties to whom I have pledged myself — but, please God,
if all is well, and if it suits you, I propose to be with you on
Thursday morning next, and spend the day with you. I
leave you for the H. Bowdens at Ryde.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

' Mr, Gladstone was defeated as candidate for O.xford University in July 1S65,
being third on the poll. — Morley's Life, ii. 147.

94 I^IFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' The Oratory, Birmingham : September 4, /65.
'My dear Keble, — I grieve to hear your anxiety about
Mrs. Keble. I will delay — for what I see, I need not be fixed
here till about the 20th. Before that time your anxiety may
be over and you may be back home — and then I will come
to you. If not, I will wait a better time. We must take it
easy,

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

' Rcdnal : September 7, 1865.

' My dear Keble, — I am glad Mrs. Keble is so much better.
As I have no Bradshaw here (Rednal) I can't fix on a train
— but, if all is well, I shall go straight to Southampton, on
Monday afternoon — sleep there— and leave my baggage — and
come over to you on Tuesday morning. But, it is so difficult
to go into Birmingham without falling in [with] and being
detained by people, especially as our school is just reassem-
bling and a British Association is going on, (this has taken
me out here) that I don't like to promise.

' There is another difficulty. / wish you would put me off,
if Pusey is coming to you. I say so merely, as you must feel,
because to meet two friends is not to meet one. Copeland
is another matter, for I have seen him so often. Pusey has
told me he is going to you next week. To put me off would
only postpone me — for, please God, / tuill come.

' Ever yours affectionately,

J. H. N.

' P.S. — I consider this will get to you to-morrow noon —
so you will have time to put me off. (Direct to the Oratory.)
Or you might write to me " Railroad Hotel, Southampton."
If I found Pusey was with you, I should go on to H. Bowden's
for a day or two,'

In the event Pusey did send word to Keble that he was
also going to Hursley on that day, and Keble wrote to put
Newman off. Newman, however, thought his own hesitation
cowardly and persevered in his plan of going to see Keble,
po.stponing his visit only one day. The meeting between
the three was related some j-ears after the event in a well-
known letter from Newman to Keble's biographer. More
interesting and graphic is the account given at the time to
Ambrose St, John :

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 95

•Buckland Grange, Ryde : September 13th, 1865.

' Here I am, very comfortable, and if I had my dear fiddle
with mc, I might sing and play, " recubans sub tegmine fagi,"
in full content. Scarcely had I left Birmingham when it
struck me that, since Pusey was to be at Keble's that evening,
he would, no manner of doubt, get into my train at Oxford
and travel down with me. But he did not. I determined to
go to Keble's next morning to see him.

' So I did. I slept at the Railway Hotel at Southampton
Dock, a very reasonable house, and good too, (they are build-
ing an Imperial Hotel), and yesterday morning (Tuesday)
retraced my steps to Bishopstoke, left my portmanteau
there, and went over to Hursley. I had forgotten the
country, and was not prepared for its woodland beauty.
Keble was at the door ; he did not know me, nor I him.
How mysterious that first sight of friends is ! for, when I
came to contemplate him, it was the old face and manner,
but the first effect or impression was different.

' His wife had been taken ill in the night, and at the first
moment Jie, I think, and certainly /, wished myself away.
Then he said : " Have you missed my letter ? " meaning,
" Pusey is here, and I wrote to stop your coming." He then
said : " I must go and prepare Pusey." He did so, and then
took me into the room where Pusey was.

' I went in rapidly, and it is strange how action overcomes
pain. Pusey, being passive, was evidently shrinking back
into the corner of the room, as I should have done, had he
rushed in upon me. He could not help contemplating the
look of me narrowly and long. " Ah," I thought, "you are
thinking how old I am grown, and I see myself in you, —
though you, I do think, are more altered than I." Indeed,
the alteration in him startled, I will add pained and grieved,
me. I should have known him anywhere ; his face is not
changed, but it is as if you looked at him through a pro-
digious magnifier. I recollect him short and small, with a
round head and smallish features, flaxen curly hair; huddled
up together from his shoulders downward, and walking fast.
This as a young man ; but comparing him even as he was
when I had last seen him in 1846, when he was slow in his
motions and staid in his figure, there was a wonderful change
in him. His head and features are half as large again ; his
chest is very broad, and he is altogether large, and (don't say
all this to anyone) he has a strange condescending way when
he speaks. His voice is the same ; were my eyes shut, I
should not be sensible of any alteration.

96 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' As we three sat together at one table, I had a painful
thought, not acute pain, but heavy. There were three old
men, who had worked together vigorously in their prime.
This is what they have come to, — poor human nature ! After
twenty years they meet together round a table, but without
a common cause or free outspoken thought ; kind indeed, but
subdued and antagonistic in their language to each other, and
all of them with broken prospects, yet each viewing in his
own way the world in which those prospects lay.

' Pusey is full of his book (the " Eirenicon "), which is all
but published, against Manning, and full of his speech on the
relations of physical science with the Bible, which he is to
deliver at the Church Congress at Norwich ; full of polemics
and hope. Keble is quite different ; he is as delightful as
ever, and it seemed to me as if he felt a sympathy and
intimacy with me which he did not show towards Pusey. I
judge by the way and tone he spoke to me of him. I took
an early dinner with them ; and, when the bell chimed at
4 o'clock for service, I got into my gig, and so from Bishop-
stoke to Ryde, getting here between 7 and 8.'

A letter to Mrs. Froude adds some characteristic touches :

* When I got to Keble's door, he happened to be at it, but
we did not know each other, and I was obliged to show him
my card. Is not this strange ? it is imagination mastering
reason. He indeed thought, since Pusey was coming, I
should not come that day— but I knew beyond doubt that
I was at his house — yet I dared not presume it was he — but,
after he began to talk, the old Keble, that is, the young, came
out from his eyes and his features, and I daresay, if I saw him
once or twice, I should be unable to see much difference
between his present face and his face of past days.' As Mrs.
Keble was ill, we then dined together tcte-d-tcte — a thing we
never perhaps had done before — there was something awful
in three men meeting in old age who had worked together in
their best days. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, was the
sad burden of the whole —once so united, now so broken up,
so counter to each other — though neither of them of course
would quite allow it. Keble has since written to me, " when

' • As hours went on,' he writes to Dean Church, ' the nota fades came out
upon his countenance, as if it were the soul itself showing itself in spite of the
course and change of time. He always had an expression like no one else, and
that sweet pleading earnestness never showed itself to me so piercingly as then, in
his eyes and in his carriage'

A NEW ARCHBISHOP (1865-1866) 97

shall we three meet a^ain ? soon — when the hurly burly's
done."

' Keble is deaf— but> what is worse, his speech is much
impaired— and I think he thinks more slowly. Pusey was full
of plans, full of meetings. He has since made an important
speech at Norwich on the interpretation of Scripture, which
will do good, and of this he was full. Then, he was just on
publishing his book which he calls an Eirenicon, and he was
full of it, though he was cautious of letting out all that was in
it. Have you seen it? It is anything but an Eirenicon — it is
likely to make Catholics very angry — and justly angry.'

Keble passed away in the following year. The loss of
their common friend brought a kindly exchange of letters
between Newman and Archbishop Manning. Manning sent
affectionate Easter greetings and expressed deep sympathy
with Newman in his loss.

Newman replied as follows :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : Easter Day, April 1st, 1866.

* My dear Archbishop, — I thank you for your Easter
greetings and return them with all my heart.

' I don't know how far you know the particulars of Keble's
death. His wife had apparently only a few hours to live — so
said the doctors about a fortnight ago. He had nursed her
till then ; but then he was seized with fainting fits, which
turned to erysipelas in the head, and he died in the earl}-
morning of Holy Thursday. His wife is still alive, but her
death is constantly expected. He is to be buried at Hursley
next Thursday. His brother and brother's wife are with
them at Bournemouth. I heard some months ago, that his
brother too was in bad health.

' Yours affectionately in Xt.,

John H. Newman

of the Oratory.'

Keble's death was followed within a few weeks by that of
Mrs. Keble. Newman tells the story of the end in a few words
to a friend in a letter of April 16, 1866 :

' Keble was told that his wife could not live many hours.

He had borne up in spite of his great infirmities, longer than

I had supposed possible. He was seized with fainting fits.

His friends took him from her room. When he got into his

VOL. II. H

qS life of cardinal NEWMAN

own, he fancied it a Church. He knelt down and said the
Lord's Prayer. Then he began a Latin hymn, — they could not
make out what. Those were his last words. Then he ended
with the prayer which he first said on his knees as a little
child.'

It pained Newman to find at such a moment that his
dear friend's sincerity was called in question by some of his
co-religionists — and this even by converts who had been for
years themselves sincere in their rejection of Rome. ' It is
grievous that people arc so hard,' he wrote to Father Coleridge.
' In converts it is inexcusable. It is a miserable spirit in
them.'

' How strange it is,' he writes to the same correspondent,
' Keble seems to have received all doctrine except the
necessity of being in communion with the Holy See. His
wife, as far as I can make out, is still alive. She kept back
the funeral a day, hoping to be buried with him. Her grave
is made. To continue what I said the other day, it seems
to me no difficulty to suppose a person in good faith on
such a point as the necessity of communion with Rome.
Till he saw that, (or that he was not in the Church), he
was bound to remain as he was, and it was in this way that
he always put it.'

Very soon Newman had an opportunity of speaking
publicly on what he considered the attitude at which
Catholics should aim in their relations to those outside their
own Communion. The appearance of Pusey's ' Eirenicon '
brought the whole question to the front, and though New-
man did not at once reply to it, he did so in the end. His
pamphlet, though less considerable in scope or importance
than the ' Apologia,' attracted very wide attention, and
greatly strengthened his influence among Catholics in Eng-
land and in Rome itself But this episode claims a .separate
chapter for its treatment.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866)

Pusey's ' Eirenicon ' appeared very shortly after the meeting
above recorded between its author and Newman at Keble's
house. Newman was disappointed at its hostile tone — at
its treatment of views maintained by the more extreme
Catholic writers as though they were the acknowledged
teaching of the Church. He himself had never had hopes
of corporate reunion. But he did regard it as of the utmost
importance that difficulties in the way of an understanding
should not be exaggerated. He wished any argument on
the subject to be based on a calm and candid analysis of
Catholic theological doctrine. He deprecated Pusey's treat-
ing as part of the Catholic faith the views of a party, or the
devotional language of such a writer as Father Faber, which
was often based only on 'pious opinions.' Yet Catholic
apologists, who were angry at Pusey's tone, did not make the
disclaimer on this point which Newman thought essential in
order to place the Catholic position on a really unassailable
basis. Those, on the other hand, like Father Lockhart, who
wrote with sympathy for Pusey, cherished Utopian hopes as
to future reunion which were not shared by any appreciable
section of the Catholic body. They were indeed denounced
as unorthodox by extremists. Newman deeply resented the
inquisitorial spirit which was abroad, and, while not agreeing
with Father Lockhart, wished him to have full liberty to urge
his views. But what he accounted the true Vm Media he
gradually saw would not be set forth publicly unless he wrote
himself. Even the Month, under the editorship of Father
Coleridge, did not evince the degree of understanding sym-
pathy with Pusey's book which Newman felt to be required in
any reply which was to be at all convincing to the Puseyites

H 2

loo LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

themselves. It was an opportunity in one respect similar to
that afforded by Mr. Kingsley's attack. He could answer and
disclaim Ward's exaggerations when Kingsley urged them as
a rednctio ad absurdmu of the belief of Catholics ; and so now
he could disclaim Faber's ultra statements on devotion to Our
Lady when Pusey urged them as an argument against the
Church, and could perhaps repeat his protest against Ward.
* Many persons,' he wrote to Hope-Scott, ' wish me to write on
the subject of Pusey's book, and it has struck me that it will
be the most inoffensive way of alluding to Faber and Ward, if
I can write without hurting Pusey.' To criticise Ward and
Faber without such an excuse might have seemed the attack
of a half-hearted Catholic, who was stingy of belief, on those
who were whole-hearted and generous. He knew, moreover,
that there still remained writers of the old Catholic school
in England who had ever been averse to extremes both in
devotion and in theology. This gave him strong support,
and was a fact which ought to be brought home to Pusey.
He wrote several private letters to Pusey himself before
finally determining to publish anything.

'The Oratory, Birmingham : Oct. 31st, 1865.

' It is true, too true, that your book disappointed me. It
does seem to me that " Eirenicon" is a misnomer; and that it
is calculated to make most Catholics very angry. And that
because they will consider it rhetorical and unfair.

' How is it fair to throw together Suarez, St. Bernardine,
Eadmer, and Faber ? As to Faber, I never read his books.
I never heard of the names of de Montfort and Oswald.
Thus a person like myself may be in authority and place,
and know nothing at all of such extravagances as these
writers put out. I venture to say the majority of Catholics
in England know nothing of them. They do not colour our
body. They are the opinions of a set of people, and not of
even them permanently. A young man or woman takes
them up, and abandons them in a few years. The single
question is, how far ought they to be censured. Such
extravagances are often censured by authority. I recollect
hearing, more than twenty years ago, instances of books
about the B.V.M. which Pope Gregory XVI. had censured.
I think I am right in saying that very superstition about Our
Lady's presence in the Holy Eucharist has been censured, —
I think Rogers told me this in 1841, writing from Rome. . . .'

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) loi

' The Oratory, Birmingham: Nov. 17th, 1865.

' As to the Infallibility of the Pope, I see nothing
against it, or to dread in it, — for I am confident that it
umst be so limited practically that it will leave things
as they are. As to Ward's notions, they are preposterous,
— nor do I see anything in the Pope's Encyclical to confirm
them. . . .

' Then again, as to the Syllabus, it has no connexion with
the Encyclical, except that of date. It does not come from
the Pope. There was a great attempt to make it a formal
ecclesiastical act, and in the Recueil you have it with the
censures annexed to each proposition, as it was originally
intended, — but the Bishops over the world interfered, and the
censures were struck out — and it is not a direct act of the
Pope's, but comes to the Bishops from Cardinal Antonelli,
with the mere coincidence of time, and as a fact, each
condemnation having only the weight which it had in the
original Papal document (Allocution, Encyclical, &c., &c.)
in which each is to be found. If an Allocution is of no
special weight, neither is the condemnation of a proposition
which it contains. Of course, nothing comes from the Pope
without having weight, but there is a great difference between
weight and infallibility. . . .

' Mgr. Dupanloup {entre nous) was gravely opposed to
the issuing of the Syllabus, &c., and much disconcerted at its
appearance. Don't repeat it, but he said : " If we can tide
over the next ten years we are safe." Perhaps you know
him already. You should have seen Pere Gratry in Paris, —
I mean, he was a man to see. I thought Mr. Pope could
have given you the names of persons who took the same
moderate view of ecclesiastical politics.'

'The Oratory, Birmingham : Nov. 19th, 1865.

* I am much surprised and much rejoiced to see yesterday's
article on your book in the Weekly Register. I hope you
will like it. I have not a dream who wrote it.

' If they rat next week, it will be very provoking. I am
not easy about it, for not long ago they would not insert a
review of a book because it was not accordinsf to Ward, who
is according to Manning, who is according to the Pope. But
this review, though not against the mind of the Pope, is
certainly against Ward and Manning.

' It has surprised me so much that I said to myself: " Is
it possible that Manning himself has changed } He is so
close, that no one can know." '

I02 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' The Oratory, Birmingham : Nov. 23rd, 1865.

* I fear that Lockhart mistakes what I have said. ... I
grieve to say I could not have written exactly as he has
written. . . . But I truly rejoice to find another can write in
a less distant way about \'our book than I could myself, —
and I abominate the fierce tyranny which would hinder an
expression of opinion such as his, and calls to account every-
one who ventures to keep clear of ultra-isms.

' You may be sure that Manning is under the lash as well
as others. There are men who would remonstrate with him,
and complain of him at Rome if he did not go all lengths, —
and in his position he can't afford to get into hot water, even
tho' he were sure to get out of it.'

Newman's final resolution to publish a reply to Pusey
was conveyed to his friend in the following letter, written on
the Feast of the Immaculate Conception — the day after the
answer was completed :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : In fest. Concept. Immac. 1865.

' You must not be made anxious that I am going to
publish a letter on your " Eirenicon." I wish to accept it as
such, and shall write in that spirit. And I write, if not to
hinder, for that is not in my power, but to balance and
neutralize other things which may be written upon it. It
will not be any great length. If I shall say anything which
is in the way of remonstrance, it will be because, unless I
were perfectly honest, I should not only do no good, but
carry no one with me, — but I am taking the greatest possible
pains not to say a word which I shall be sorry for afterwards.'

At starting Newman stamps his published letter to Pusey
as a work of apologetic which should have its effect in leading
to conversions to the Church. Pusey's influence at that
moment was at its height. His words, as Newman pointed
out, affected large multitudes. Any reply which made him
reconsider his position would affect his followers also.^

' ' Vou cannot speak merely for yourself,' he wrote : 'your antecedents, your
existing influence, are a pledge to us that what you may determine will be the
determination of a multitude. Numbers, too, for whom you cannot properly be
said to speak, will be moved by your authority or your arguments ; and numbers,
again, who are of a school more recent than your own, and who are only not
your followers because they have outstripped you in their free speeches and
demonstrative acts in our behalf, will, for the occasion, accept you as their
spokesman. There is no one anywhere, — among ourselves, in your own body.

THE 'EIRENICON' ([865-1866) 103

And if the hope of a large accession of Puseyites to
the Catholic Church appeared quite extravagant to some
Catholics, Newman was able to point to the time when Dr.
Wiseman had expressed a similar hope in 1843 >" respect
of the old Tractarian party and Newman himself, and had
been mercilessly laughed at by his fellow-Catholics. Yet
the events of 1S45 proved that Wiseman was right and the
pessimists wrong.

Wiseman had treated the difficulties of the Tractarians
with sympathy and consideration. This course had proved
helpful and successful. Hence Newman appealed to
Wiseman's success in justification of his own similar line on
the present occasion. And he pointed out, moreover, that in
disclaiming excesses in devotional language concerning the
Blessed Virgin, he was making no new attempt to minimise
recognised Catholic devotions, but rather following in the
ancient track of Catholic practice in England, which, at the
time of his own conversion, was pointed out to him by Dr.
Griffiths, the Vicar- Apostolic of the London District, For
Dr. Griffiths strongly objected to certain foreign ' Saints'
Lives ' and devotional works, as being unsuitable to England.

On the other hand, the English writers to whom Pusey
appealed as representing the extravagances characteristic
of the Church of Rome were not the hereditary repre-
sentatives of the Catholic tradition, but Oxford converts —
Faber and W. G. Ward. The former had written on
devotion to Our Lady, the latter on Papal Infallibility, in
language which Pusey cited as at once characteristic of the
existing Catholic and Roman Church, and irrational ; — as on
these two points finally barring the way to the acceptance
of Roman claims among English Churchmen. Of the fact
that they were converts, comparatively young, and innovators
on the traditions of English Catholicism, while the typical

or, I suppose, in the Greek Church, who can affect so large a circle of men, so
virtuous, so able, so learned, so zealous, as come, more or less, under your
influence ; and I cannot pay them a greater compliment than to tell them they
ought all to be Catholics, nor do them a more affectionate service than to pray
that they may one day become such. Nor can I address myself to any task more
pleasing, as I trust, to the Divine Lord of the Church, or more loyal or dutiful
to His Vicar on earth, than to attempt, however feebly, to promote so great a
consummation.'

104 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

English hereditary Cathoh"cs had ever used measured language
on both points, Newman made great capital. He signalised
Faber's gifts as a poet, and Ward's ' energy, acuteness and
theological reading,' displayed on the vantage ground of the
historic Dublin Revieiu, but added —

' They are in no sense spokesmen for English Catholics,
and they must not stand in the place of those who have a
real title to such an office. The chief authors of the passing
generation, some of them still alive, others gone to their
reward, are Cardinal Wiseman, Dr. Ullathorne, Dr. Lingard,
Mr. Tierney, Dr. Oliver, Dr. Rock, Dr. Waterworth, Dr.
Husenbeth, and Mr. Flanagan ; which of these ecclesiastics
has said anything extreme about the prerogatives of the
Blessed Virgin, or the Infallibility of the Pope ? ' '

Newman urged two points in his letter with special
insistence : (i) that the recognised Catholic doctrine and
devotion is a natural and lawful development from beliefs
already visible in patristic days ; (2) that the undeniable
extravagances which Puscy cites from the works of some
foreign divines may well be disavowed by any Catholic — as
Newman himself disowns them — although he characteris-
tically adds that he knows nothing of such extravagances as
they are found in the writings of the authors he refers to, but
only as they stand in Pusey's own pages.

That Pusey's idea of reunion with Rome on equal terms is
Utopian Newman clearly intimated — as he had already done
in his private letters. Yet he believed that a better under-
standing might be promoted and some approximation won
by the attempt on either side to do justice to the other ; and
he reproached Pusey with speaking of an ' Eirenicon ' and
yet fixing attention on the most contentious utterances of
Catholics. ' There was one of old times,' he wrote, ' who

' Sonic thought that their names wore given partly in irony. Newnuin
emphatically disclaimed this.

'I am in earnest about the names I quoted,' he writes to II. VVilherforcc.
' They arc witnesses, and it does not require to be great authors in order to witness
well. Ward and Faber, as well as my.self, never had a course of theology. I at
least have been a year at Rome. Other writers, such as Allies, also are not theo-
logians. The ecclesiastics I named have been in seminaries. Their literary merit
may not be high, but Lingard, Rock, Wiseman, Tierney, Oliver, are ihe/irst in
their lines. I might say more.'

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) 105

wreathed his sword in myrtle ; excuse me — you discharge
your olive branch as if from a catapult.' The common
ground of approximation is to be found in the teaching
Fathers whom both sides profess to accept. To realise the
patristic teaching and sentiments concerning the Blessed
Virgin is to go far on the road towards a true ' Eirenicon.'

After speaking of the doctrine defined at Ephesus by the
term Theotocos, or ' mother of God/ he wrote as follows of
the prevalence of the thought it expresses, which goes back
to yet earlier days :

* It would be tedious to produce the passages of authors
who, using or not using the term, convey the idea. " Our
God was carried in the womb of Mary," says Ignatius,
who was martyred A.D. 106. " The Word of God," says
Hippolytus, " was carried in that Virgin frame." " The
Maker of all," says Amphilochius, " is born of a Virgin."
" She did compass without circumscribing the Sun of Justice,
—the Everlasting is born," says Chrysostom. " God dwelt
in the womb," says Proclus. " When thou hearest that God
speaks from the bush," asks Theodotus, " in the bush seest
thou not the Virgin ? " Cassian says : '• Mary bore her
Author." " The One God only begotten," says Hilary, " is
introduced into the womb of a Virgin." " The Everlasting,"
says Ambrose, " came into the Virgin." " The closed gate,"
says Jerome, " by which alone the Lord God of Israel enters,
is the Virgin Mary." " That man from Heaven," says
Capriolus, " is God conceived in the womb." " He is made
in thee," says St. Augustine, " who made thee."

' This being the faith of the Fathers about the Blessed
Virgin, we need not wonder that it should in no long time be
transmuted into devotion. No wonder if their language should
become unmeasured, when so great a term as " Mother of
God " had been formally set down as the safe limit of
it. : . . Little jealousy was shown of her in those times ;
but, when any such niggardness of affection occurred, then
one Father or other fell upon the offender with zeal, not
to say with fierceness. Thus St. Jerome inveighs against
Helvidius ; thus St. Epiphanius denounces Apollinaris,
St. Cyril Nestorius, and St. Ambrose Bonosus ; on the other
hand, each successive insult offered to her by individual
adversaries did but bring out more fully the intimate
sacred afifection with which Christendom regarded her.' '

' Letter to Pusey, DifficuUies of Anglicans, "\\. 65, 66.

lor, LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

With regard to the excesses of expression among Catholic
writers which had formed the most effective part of Pusey's
indictment, Newman brought to bear a large weight of theo-
logical authority on the lines of St. Anselm's affirmation
' that the Church thinks it indecent that anything that
admits of doubt should be said in Our Lady's praise when
things that are certainly true of her supply such large
materials for laudation.' And he then proceeded :

' After such explanation, and with such authorities, to
clear my path, I put away from me, as you would wish,
without any hesitation, as matters in which my heart and
reason have no part, (when taken in their literal and absolute
sense, as any Protestant would naturally take them and as
the writers doubtless did not use them), such sentences and
phrases as [you quote].'

After enumerating", one after another, the extreme state-
ments quoted by Pusey,^ he thus concluded :

' Sentiments such as these I freely surrender to your
animadversion ; I never knew of them till I read your book,
nor, as I think, do the vast majority of P2nglish Catholics

' The statements run as follows : ' Thai ihc mercy of Mary is infinite ; that
God has resigned into her hands I lis Omnipotence ; that it is safer to seek her
than to seek her Son ; that the Blessed Virgin is superior to God ; that Our
Lord is subject to her command ; that His present disposition towards sinners,
as well as His Father's, is to reject them, while the Blessed Mary lakes His
place as an Advocate with Father and Son ; that the Saints are more ready to
intercede with Jesus than Jesus with the Father ; that Mary is the only refuge
of those with whom God is angry; that Mary alone can obtain a Protestant's
conversion ; that it would have sufficed for the salvation of men if Our Lord
had died, not in order to obey His Father, but to defer to the decree of His
Mother ; that she rivals Our Lord in being God's daughter, not by adoption,
but by a kind of nature ; that Christ fulfilled the office of Saviour by imitating
her virtues ; that, as the Incarnate God bore the image of His Father, so He
bore the image of His Mother ; that redemption derived from Christ indeed its
sufficiency, but from Mary its beauty and loveliness ; that, as we are clothed
with the merits of Christ, so we are clothed with the merits of Mary ; that, as
He is Priest, in a like sense is she Priestess ; that His Body and Blood in the
Eucharist are truly hers and appertain to her ; that as He is present and received
therein, so is she present and received therein ; that Priests are ministers as of
Christ, so of Mary ; that elect souls are born of God and Mary ; that the Holy
Ghost brings into fruilfulness His action by her, producing in her and by her
Jesus Christ in His members ; that the Kingdom of God in our souls, as Our
Lord speaks, is really the kingdom of Mary in the soul ; that she and the Holy
Ghost produce in the soul extraordinary things; and thai when the Holy Ghost
finds Mary in a soul He Hies there ' (pp. 1 1 j 14).

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) 107

know them. They seem to me like a bad dream. I could
not have conceived them to be said. I know not to what
authority to go for them ; to Scripture, or to the Fathers, or
to the decrees of Councils, or to the consent of schools, or to
the tradition of the faithful, or to the Holy See, or to Reason.
They defy all the loci tJieologici. There is nothing of them in
the Missal, in the Roman Catechism, in the Roman Raccolta,
in the " Imitation of Christ," in Gother, Challoner, Milncr, or
Wiseman, as far as I am aware. They do but scare and con-
fuse me. ... I do not, however, speak of these statements,
as they are found in their authors, for I know nothing of the
originals, and cannot believe that they have meant what you
say ; but I take them as they lie in your pages. Were any
of them the sayings of Saints in ecstasy, I should know they
had a good meaning ; still I should not repeat them myself;
but I am looking at them, not as spoken by the tongues of
Angels, but according to that literal sense which they bear
in the mouths of English men and English women. And,
as spoken by man to man, in England, in the nineteenth
century, I consider them calculated to prejudice inquirers, to
frighten the unlearned, to unsettle consciences, to provoke
blasphemy, and to work the loss of souls.' ^

On reaching the point in his letter at which W. G. Ward's
views concerning Papal Infallibility would naturally have
been dealt with, Newman breaks off and postpones the subject
to another occasion. In later editions he speaks of Father
Ryder's pamphlets in reply to Ward, published in 1867, as
precluding the necessity of his saying more himself He did
return to the question ten years later in his letter to the Duke
of Norfolk. But Father Neville told me that, when writins
the letter to Pusey, he decided after much thought and prayer
that it was not wise to deal at that moment with so delicate
and burning a topic as the Papal claims. In his criticism
on Faber he felt fairly certain of carrying a large proportion
of English Catholic opinion with him. The other case was
more difficult at a moment when the troubles of the Holy
See might make many resent a dry theological analysis of the
Papal claims, and deprecate a protest against views which, if
not theologically accurate, were nevertheless inspired by that
loyal devotion which the Holy Father so greatly needed. He
therefore terminated his letter as follows :

' Letters to Dr. Vwsty, Difficulties of Anglicans, ii. 115.

io8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' So far concerning the Blessed Virgin ; the chief, but
not the only subject of your Volume. And now, when I
could wish to proceed, she seems to stop all controversy, for
the Feast of her Immaculate Conception is upon us; and
close upon its Octave, which is kept with special solemnities
in the Churches of this town, come the great Antiphons,
the heralds of Christmas. That joyful season, — joyful for
all of us, — while it centres in Him Who then came on earth,
also brings before us in peculiar prominence that Virgin
Mother who bore and nursed Him. Here she is not in the
background, as at Eastertide, but she brings Him to us in
her arms. Two great Festivals, dedicated to her honour, —
to-morrow's and the Purification, — mark out and keep the
ground, and, like the towers of David, open the way to and
fro, for the high holiday season of the Prince of Peace. And
all along it her image is upon it, such as we see it in the
typical representation of the Catacombs. May the sacred
influences of this tide bring us all together in unity. May it
destroy all bitterness on your side and ours ! May it quench
all jealous, sour, proud, fierce, antagonism on our side ; and
dissipate all captious, carping, fastidious, refinements of
reasoning on yours ! May that bright and gentle Lady,
the Blessed Virgin Mary, overcome you with her sweetness,
and revenge herself on her foes by interceding effectually for
their conversion.'

The letter to Pusey was published before Christmas.
Newman was fully prepared for a mixed reception of it
among Catholics. ' Don't expect much from my pamphlet,'
he wrote to Miss Bowles, ' which is at last through the press.
Pusey's work is on too many subjects, not to allow of a dozen
answers, and, since I am only giving one, every reader will
be expecting one or other of the eleven which I don't give.'

It was not to be expected, again, that Pusey's emphatic
challenge to the school of Faber and Ward, and again of
Louis Veuillot, should remain unanswered. Still, W. G.
Ward, Manning, and others, had necessarily to recognise in
their own answers the force and value of Newman's main
argument against Pusey. The very fact of a common
cause, which enabled Newman indirectly to attack the
extremists, made it difficult for them to reply to him. On
the other hand, the effect of the ' Apologia ' was again
visible among the English public. The Press signalised the

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) T09

importance of an utterance from Newman's pen — according it
the fullest attention, in marked contrast to the almost entire
neglect of him shown for twenty years since the publication
of the 'Essay on Development/ in 1846. The climax was
reached in the long article of seven columns which appeared
in the Times of March 31, 1866.

An article of such length in the Times in those days
proclaimed, as a rule, a public event of first-rate national
importance. That Newman's brief letter to Dr. Pusey
should call forth a review nearly as long as itself, was an
eloquent comment on the position Newman now held in the
public mind ; and to the initiated who knew that it came
from the pen of R. W. Church, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's,
this fact added to its interest.

The writer in the Times, at starting, recognises that ' there
is only one person on the Roman Catholic side whose
reflections ' on Pusey's pamphlet ' English readers in general
would much care to know,' and that person is Dr. Newman.
He notes that in substance Newman, like Manning and
other Roman Catholic writers, regards Pusey's ideas as im-
practicable. But he notes, too, the understanding sympathy
with Pusey's attitude which Newman shows. He marks the
note of candour which renders Newm.an so singularly
persuasive, ' the English habit of not letting off the blunders
and follies of his own side, and of daring to think that a
cause is better served by outspoken independence of
judgment than by fulsome, unmitigated puffing.' He recog-
nises in particular that there is a tendency among Roman
Catholics in England, showing itself largely in the importa-
tion of ' foreign ideas and foreign usages,' with which Newman
strongly disclaims all sympathy. The writer cites the impres-
sive passage in which Newman emphasises what he calls
* fashions ' in Catholic opinions, and in which he intimates that
to disagree with the views prevalent within the Church at a
particular time or place may be not to lack Catholic instinct,
but rather to show a fuller acquaintance with the length and
breadth of authorised Catholic theological opinion, and with
the story of different Pontificates. If, Newman had added,
authority is seen in history largely to consider, in its deter-
minations at a particular time, the various phases of Catholic

no LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

opinion exhibited at that time, then the expression of opinion
may become a duty on the part of individuals. And seeing
the traditionary views of English Catholicism falling into
the background in favour of foreign ideas with which he has
small sympathy, he had felt called upon to express his own
judgment, lest the newer habits of thought might appear to
outsiders to be exclusively those which the Church sanctions.
He had claimed the right ' to speak as well as to hear' for
one who, like himself, had now for twenty years been a
Catholic and given close attention to the different phases of
Catholic opinion.

' I prefer English habits of belief and devotion to foreign,'
Newman had written, * from the same causes and by the same
right, which justifies foreigners in preferring their own. In
following those of my people, I show less singularity and
create less disturbance than if I made a flourish with what
is novel and exotic. And in this line of conduct I am but
availing myself of the teaching which I fell in with on
becoming a Catholic ; and it is a pleasure to me to think
that what I hold now, and would transmit after me if I could,
is only what I received then.'

The Times writer questions the accuracy of Newman's
account of the situation. Over against his contention that
the views dominant within the Church of a particular time
may be but a passing and accidental fashion, due to the
character of the particular Pope or other circumstances, the
Times sets Archbishop Manning's apparently opposite state-
ment in his reply to Pusey, that the Church is in some sense
committed to them by the very fact of their being dominant
and unreproved. The careful reader will see that there is in
reality no marked contradiction between the two. Manning
had not claimed more than immunity from the censure of
private Catholics for extreme views that were tolerated by
authority, and Newman had only claimed toleration for
those less extreme. Manning had claimed, as more than the
tenets of a school, only what Pontiffs .successively witnessed.
Newman had claimed liberty rather where they diverged.
But the tone of Manning's words told for dogmatism, of
Newman's for liberty. And the writer in the Times went on
to urge, that all the official encouragement of the Church
was given to the views of Manning ; that Papal censures

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) in

were reserved for 'Liberalism,' while extreme statements as to
the Papal prerogatives and ' Mariolatry ' were unreproved.

' Dr. Newman has often told us,' the Times continued, ' that
we must take the consequences of our principles and theories,
and here are some of the consequences which meet him ;
and, as he says, they " scare and confuse him." He boldly
disavows them with no doubtful indignation. But what
other voice but his, of equal authority and weight, has been
lifted up, to speak the plain truth about them ? Why, if
they are wrong, extravagant, dangerous, is his protest
solitary? His communion has never been wanting in
jealousy of dangerous doctrines, and it is vain to urge that
these things, and things like them, have been said in a
corner. The Holy Office is apt to detect mischief in small
writers as well as great, even if these teachers were as in-
significant as Dr. Newman would gladly make them. Taken
as a whole, and in connection with notorious facts, these
statements are fair examples of manifest tendencies, which
certainly are not on the decline. . . .

' Allocutions and Encyclicals are not for errors of this
kind. Dr. Newman says that " it is wiser for the most part
to leave these excesses to the gradual operation of public
opinion, — that is, to the opinion of educated and sober
Catholics ; and this seems to me the healthiest way of
putting them down." We quite agree with him ; but his
own Church does not think so ; and we want to see some
evidence of a public opinion in it capable of putting them
down. . . .

' It is very little use, then, for Dr. Newman to tell Dr.
Puscy or anyone else, " You may safely trust us English
Catholics as to this devotion." " English Catholics," as such,
— it is the strength and the weakness of their system, — have
really the least to say in the matter. The question is
not about the trusting " us English Catholics," but the Pope,
and the Roman congregations, and those to whom the
Roman Authorities delegate their sanction and give their
countenance.'

In brief, the writer claims that it is Ward and Manning
who represent the effective mind of the ruling power, and that
it is with them that Dr. Pusey and his friends have to reckon.
Newman had pointed out that prevalent excesses were no
argument against the ' grand faith and worship ' which the
Church had preserved. But the writer argues that the

TI2 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

admission that such prevalent excesses were deplorable was
not effectively made among Catholics ; that the tendency of
Manning to justify what is unjustifiable, on the sole ground
that it was prevalent and not condemned, was practically the
tendency of the Catholic Church in the nineteenth century.

The case had been put in this article from the standpoint
of an Anglican. Yet the article was welcome to Newman
not only as an advertisement of his book, but on other
grounds. An answer to the writer from the Catholic stand-
point was, he held, easy if the distinctions recognised by the
best theologians were remembered. An answer from the
standpoint of Ward or Veuillot, or e\cn Manning, was very
difficult. The definitions of Faith, and their logical conse-
quences, could be maintained with controversial success as
unalterable, with no detriment to the fact, historically incon-
testable, that opinions not really true might be — nay, have
been — universally accepted in the Church at a given time.
To hold with Ward that such prevalence makes them part of
the teaching of the Church was to go in the face of history -
it was to justify belief in the ' Parousia ' or the ' Millennium,'
on the early universal prevalence of which among Catholics
Newman had so often insisted. The article in the Tivies,
then, had brought out a very important issue, and had at
least laid stress on the fact that opinions which Ward and
his friends constantly represented as the only orthodox
Catholic opinions were challenged by Newman ; and his
challenge remained not only without reproof, but received
the assent of others well equipped to speak with authority
for what was theologically sound.

At the same time messages came to Newman from the
Bishop of Birmingham and the Bishop of Clifton, identify-
ing themselves with his view ; and a similar attitude was,
as he heard, prevalent in the majority of the Episcopate.
Ward's party and Manning's followers in London were, of
cour.se, dissatisfied with the letter and attacked it ; but the
balance of opinion was in its favour.

Newman's faithful friends the Dominican sisters at Stone
were among those who keenly appreciated the letter, and he
rejoiced in their approval. He wrote to Sister Imclda on
April 2 :

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) 113

* My dear Sister Imelda, — Thank you for your welcome
letter, and for your Reverend Mother's message. And I am
much rejoiced to hear so good an account of her.

' One can't do better than one's best. I have done my
very best in my Pamphlet — but bad is the best I daresay.
Certainly, we may say of our Lady, as we say of the mystery
of the Holy Eucharist, " quia major omni laudc, ncc laudare
sufficit." It is still more difficult at once to praise her, and
to dispraise some of her imprudent votaries. On the other
hand it is very easy to criticize what we should not do a bit
better if we ourselves tried our hand at it. Therefore 1 am
not surprised that I am open to criticism, and have been
criticized, and in spite of that, not at all dissatisfied on the
whole with what I have done, for I have had a number of
letters from important quarters, all in my favour. One, which
is the most gratifying is from our own Bishop.

' With my best Easter greetings to your Reverend Mother
and all your Community, 1 am

' My dear Sister Imelda most sincerely yours in Xt.

John H. Newman

of the Oratory,'

To Pusey he writes on the general situation two days
after the appearance of the Times article :

'Thank you for your sympathy about the attacks on me,
but you have enough upon yourself to be able to understand
that they have no tendency to annoy me, — and on the other
hand are a proof that one is doing a work. I hail the Article
in the Times with great satisfaction as being the widest
possible advertisement of me. I never should be surprised
at its comments being sent by some people to Rome, as
authoritative explanations of my meaning, wherever they are
favourable to me. The truth is, that certain views have been
suffered without a word, till their maintainers have begun to
fancy that they are de fide, — and they are astonished and
angry beyond measure when they find that silence on the
part of others was not acquiescence, indifference, or timidity,
but patience. My own Bishop and Dr. Clifford, and, I
believe, most of the other Bishops, are with me. And I have
had letters from the most important centres of theology and
of education through the country, taking part with me.
London, however, has for years been oppressed with various
incubi; though I cannot forget, with great gratitude, that
two years ago as many as a hundred and ten priests of the
Westminster Diocese, including all the Canons, the Vicars
VOL. II. I

114 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

General, the Jesuits, and other Orders, went out of their way
(and were the first to do so), to take my part before the
" Apologia " appeared.

' I am very sorry the Jesuits are so fierce against you.
They have a notion that you are not exact in your facts, and
it has put their backs up ; but we are not so exact ourselves
as to be able safely to throw stones.'

While Newman loyally defended the Jesuits in writing to
Pusey, to Father Coleridge himself he very frankly indicated
in an interesting letter what he regarded as unfair, or, at
least, ungenerous, in the treatment of the controversy in the
pages of the Month :

' As to Pusey, I fully think that whatever is misrepresented
in facts should be brought out, as well as what is wrong in
theology. But ... I say ..." show that Pusey 's facts
are wrong, but don't abuse him." Abuse is as great a mistake
in controversy as panegyric in biography. Of course a man
must state strongly his opinion, but that is not personal
vituperation. Now I am not taking the liberty of accusing
you of vituperation, but I think an Anglican would say :
*' This writer is fierce — " and would put you aside in con-
sequence as a partisan. He would shrink into his prejudices
instead of imbibing confidence.

' Now mind, I am not accusing you of all this inaladresse,
but bringing out what I mean. But I will tell you, if you
will bear with me, what does seem to me to approach to it in
what you have written, e.g.'

'I. "The great name of Bossuet has been foolishly
invoked by Dr. Pusey," p. 384.

' 2. " There can be no more mistake about the fact than
about the impression which Dr. Pusey has meant to produce
on his readers," p. 387, note.

' 3. " How does this , . . differ from the artifice of an
unscrupulous advocate} " p. 388.

'4. "Great confusion of thought," p. 388.

' 5. " In happy unconsciousness of the absurdity of his
language," p. 389.

' 6. " This language shows as much confusion or ignorance^
&c." p. 389.

' 7. " He does not understand that . . .," p. 389.

' 8, " He talks of a continual flow, &c." p. 389.

'9. " This is very childish" p. 389.
' The references are to the article ' Archbishop Manning on the Reunion of
Christendom,' in the Month for April 1866.

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) 115

' 10. " Dr. Pusey then must have deliberately ignored the
distinction," p. 389.

* It must be recollected that your object is to convince
those who respect and love Dr. Pusey that he has written
hastily and rashly and gone beyond his measure. Now if
even I feel pained to read such things said of him, what do
you suppose is the feeling of those who look up to him as
their guide ? They are as indignant at finding him thus
treated as you are for his treatment of Catholic doctrine.
They close their ears and hearts. Yet these are the very
people you write for. You don't write to convince the good
Fathers at No. 9,' but to say a word in season to his followers
and to his friends — to dispose them to look kindly on
Catholics and Catholic doctrine, — to entertain the possibility
that they have misjudged us, and that they are needlessly, as
well as dangerously, keeping away from us, — but to mix up
your irrefutable matter with a personal attack on Pusey, is as
if you were to load your gun carefully, and then as deliberately
to administer some drops of water at the touch-hole.

' Now excuse me for all this, but you have put me on my
defence by making the point at issue whether or not the
"Papers should be suffered all to assume that his statements
are founded on real theological knowledge — " which is not the
issue.

' Very sincerely yours,

John H. Newman.'

Loyalty to his friends called for another letter in connec-
tion with the ' Eirenicon.' Newman had expressed to Mr.
Ambrose de Lisle so much sympathy with his attitude towards
the Anglican movement that he felt that he ought to make
it quite clear that he considered his scheme of ' corporate
reunion ' to be Utopian, and why he thought so.

' I find it very difficult,' he writes to de Lisle on March 3,
1866, 'to realise such an idea as a fact. As a Protestant, I
never could get myself to entertain it as such, nor have I been
able as a Catholic. Nothing is impossible to God, and the
more we ask of Him, the more we gain — but still, His indica-
tions in Providence are often our guide, what to ask and what
not to ask. We ask what is probable ; we do not ask
definitely that England should be converted in a day ; — unless
under the authority of a particular inspiration, such a prayer

' No. 9 Hill Street (now No. 16) then served as the residence of the Farm
Street community.

IS

ii6 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

would be presumptuous, as being a prayer for a miracle.
Now to me, the question is whether the conversion of that
corporate body, which we call the Anglican Church, would
not be in the same general sense a miracle, — in the same
sense in which it would be a miracle for the Thames to change
its course, and run into the sea at the Wash instead of the
Nore. Of course in the course of ages such a change of
direction might take place without miracle — by the stopping
up of a gorge or the alteration of a level. But I should not
pray for it ; and, if I wished to divert the stream from London,
I should cut a canal at Eton or Twickenham. I should carry
the innumerable drops of water my own way by forming a new
bed by my own labour — and for the success of this project
I might reasonably pray. Now the Anglican Church is sui
generis — it is not a collection of individuals — but it is a bed,
a river bed, formed in the course of ages, depending on
external facts, such as political, civil, and social arrangements.
Viewed in its structure, it has never been more than partially
Catholic. If its ritual has been mainly such, yet its articles
are the historical offspring of Luther and Calvin. And its
ecclesiastical organisation has ever been, in its fundamental
principles, Erastian. To make that actual and visible, tangi-
ble body Catholic, would be simply to make a new creature
— it would be to turn a panther into a hind. There are
yery great similarities between a panther and a hind. Still
they are possessed of separate natures, and a change from one
to the other would be a destruction and reproduction, not
a process. It could be done without a miracle in a succession
of ages, but in any assignable period, no.

' See what would be needed to bring the Anglican Church
into a condition capable of union with the Catholic body.
There have ever been three great parties in it. The rod of
Aaron (so to call it) must swallow up the serpents of the
magicians. Thar tod has grown of late years — doubtless —
but the history of opinion, and of Anglican opinion, has
ever been a course of reactions. Look at ourselves,
truths de fide are unchangeable and indefectible, but
you yourself were lately predicting, and with reason, a re-
action among us from Ultramontanism. The chance is,
humanly speaking, that the Catholic movement in the
Anglican Church, being itself a reaction, will meet with a
re-reaction — but suppose it does not. Then it has to absorb
into itself the Evangelical and the Liberal parties. When it
has done this, the Erastian party, which embraces all three,
and against which there is no reaction at present, which ever

I

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) 117

lias been, which is "Ca^ foundation of Anglicanism, must begin
to change itself. I say all parties ever have been Erastian.
Archbishop Whitgift, a Calvinist, was as Erastian, as much
opposed to the Puritans, as Laud was. And Hoadly, the
representative of the Liberals, was of course emphatically an
Erastian. But let us keep to the Catholic party. They were
Erastian in Laud, they arc Erastian in their most advanced
phase now. What is the rejection of Gladstone at Oxford,
what is the glorification of that angel Disraeli, but an Erastian
policy } and who are specially the promoters of it but the
Union Review and the party it represents .-'

' When then I come to consider the possibility of the
Established Church becoming capable of Catholicism, I must
suppose its Evangelical party adding to its tenets the
Puritanism of Cartwright as well as disowning at the same
time its own and Cartwright's Protestantism ; — I must
suppose the Catholic party recalling the poor Non-jurors
and accepting their anti-Erastianism, while preserving and
perfecting its own orthodoxy — and the Liberal party denying
that Royal supremacy which is the boast of members of it,
as different from each other in opinion as Tillotson, Arnold
and Colenso. I must anticipate the Catholic party, first
beating two foes, each as strong as itself, and then taking the
new step, never yet dreamed of except by the Non-jurors,
who in consequence left it, and by the first authors of the
Tracts [for the] Times, the new step of throwing off the
Supremacy of the State.

' Then comes a question, involved indeed, but not brought
out clearly, in what I have been saying. Who are meant by
the members of each party, the clergy only or the laity also ?
It is a miracle, if the " Catholic " clergy in the Establishment
manage to swallow up the Evangelical and Liberal — but how
much more difficult an idea is it to contemplate, that they
should absorb the whole laity of their communion, of whom,
but a fraction is with them, a great portion Evangelical, a
greater Liberal, and a still greater, alas, without any faith at all.
I do not see, moreover, how it is possible to forget that the
Established Church is the Church oi England — that Dissenters
are, both in their own estimation and in that of its own
members, in some sense a portion of it — and that, even were
its whole proper laity Catholic in opinions, the whole popu-
lation of England, of which Dissenters are nearly half, would,
as represented by Parliament, claim it as their own.

' And of course, when it came to the point, they would
have fact and power on their side. It is indeed hard to

ii8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

conceive that the constitution of the Church of England, as
settled by Act of Parliament, can be made fit for re-union
with the Catholic Church, till political parties, as such, till the
great interests of the nation, the country party, the manu-
facturing, the trade, become Catholic, as parties. Before that
takes place, and sooner than it will, as it seems to me, the
Establishment will cease to be, in consequence of the Free
Church and voluntary principle and movement. So that from
my point of view, I cannot conceive, to end as I began, the
Establishment running into Catholicism, more than I can
conceive the Thames running into the Wash.

' And now excuse me, if I have been at all free ; but, since
you seemed to wish to know what I think on so momentous
a subject, and it seems to be a time when we shall all arrive
best at what is true and expedient, and at unanimity and
unity, by speaking out, I have thought I might throw myself
on your indulgence, even in such respects as I fear will not
commend themselves to your judgment.'

Theology was not the only matter which engaged
Newman's attention at this time. He wrote frequently to
Frederick Rogers and R. W. Church on questions of cur-
rent interest. Rogers sent him in April 1866 Seeley's work
entitled ' Ecce Homo,' which made a great stir on its ap-
pearance. Newman did not at first see much in the book.
He found ' little new in it but what was questionable or
fanciful,' but in view of Rogers' estimate of its great impor-
tance as a sign of the times, he wrote an appreciative review
of it in the Month.

From his letters on the politics of the time, two may be
quoted — one on the Franco-Prussian War and one, in the
following year, on the murder of Emperor Maximilian. In
both these letters, addressed to R. W. Church, we have his
thoughts on the future of his own country. Ever since the
Reform Bill of 1832 he had viewed with great misgiving the
extension of the suffrage and the growth of the democracy.
' The only defence of or consolation under Reform,' he writes
to Rogers, ' is that power itself will have a .sober and educa-
tional effect on the new voters. The other consolation is
that it will only increase bribery immoderately.' England's
international position also appeared to him at this time very
unsatisfactory. Still he had a great belief in the genius of
his country and her power to recover.

THE 'EIRENICON' (1865-1866) 119

To R. W. Church.

'The Oratory, B" : Sept' 21, 1866,
' What wonderful events have taken place lately ! quite a
new world is coming in ; and if Louis Napoleon were to fall
ill, the catastrophe would be still more wonderful. I don't
quite like our being thrown so much into the background.
Twenty-five years ago Rogers said one ought to go abroad
to know how great England was — it is not so now — some
foreign papers simply leave out the heading " Angleterre " in
their foreign news. And the fate of Austria, a state in some
striking points like us, though in others different, is a sort of
omen of what might happen to us in the future. Then, I am
quite ashamed at the past ignorance of the Times and
other papers and at myself for having been so taken in by
them. Think of the Tunes during the American civil
war! And again on the breaking out, and in the course of
the Danish War. Really we are simply in the dark as to
what is going on beyond our four seas — even if we know
what is going on within them. How dark, as even I could
see, we are as to Ireland, from having been there. Some
four years ago I met a man, he seemed some sort of country
gentleman, at the inn of a country town — we got into con-
versation. I told him the hatred felt for England in all
ranks in Ireland — how great friends of mine did not scruple
to speak to me of the " bloody English "— the common
phrase — how cautious and quiet government people simply
confessed they would gladly show their teeth if they
were sure of biting ; but he would not believe me — and
that has been the state of the mass of our people. Even
now they are slow to believe that Fenianism is as deeply
rooted as it is. Every Irishman is but watching his op-
portunity— and if he is friendly to this country, it is because
he despairs.

' Don't think I am tempted to despair about England.
I am in as little despair about England as about the Pope.
I think they have both enormous latent forces ; and if, as they
now talk, he goes to Malta, I shall think it is caused by some
hidden sympathy of position. Misery does indeed make us
acquainted with strange bedfellows. And, whatever the
Pope will have to do, at least England must make some
great changes, and give up many cherished ways of going
on, if she is to keep her place in the world.

' However, much all this is to an old man like me.*

I20 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

To THE Same.

'The Oratory, B" : July 7, 1867.

* Your violin improves continually ; I cannot desire a
better one. I have got it at Rednal, where I make a noise,
without remonstrance from trees, grass, roses or cabbages. . .

' Maximilian's death is the deepest tragedy in our day,
the deeper because it has so little romantic about it — it is
the case of a lion poisoned by a ratcatcher — or "a falcon,
towering in her pride of place, and by a mousing owl
hawked at and killed." There is a kind of death which seems,
not a martyrdom, but a failure. Max's course in Mexico
is not a career. He has left Europe and vanished into
space ; and is of those " which have no memorial, who have
perished as tho' they had never been " ; and his " empire "
after him. And this is most tragic.

' As to Parliamentary proceedings, it is a crucial experi-
ment whether England is stronger in its social or its political
.system. If the social framework can withstand and master
such political changes it is strong indeed.'

CHAPTER XXIV

OXFORD AGAIN ^1866-1867)

The renewed signs of Newman's great influence on the
public mind in England, brought forth by the letter to
Pusey, were not lost on the Ecclesiastical Authorities. Such
signs gave his friends courage ; they made his critics feel the
impolicy of weakening the authority of so powerful a cham-
pion of the Catholic cause. Manning was endeavouring to
strengthen his position as Archbishop by conciliatory action,
and was not likely to oppose him openly. Catholic boys
were still going to Oxford, and Newman bought fresh land
there, with an eye to future possibilities. Then he was again
offered the Oxford Mission by his Bishop in April 1866. He
saw in the renewed offer a sign of God's Will for him. Yet
the following letter of April 29 to Dr. Pusey shows that he
viewed the prospect with mixed feelings :

'I am grieved to think it vexes you so much to hear of
the chance of our going to Oxford. You may be sure
we should not go to put ourselves in opposition to you, or
to come in collision with the theological views which you
represent. Of course we never could conceal our con-
victions, nor is it possible to control the action of great
principles when they are thrown upon the face of society —
but it would be a real advantage to the cause of truth, if our
opinions were known more accurately than they are generally
known by Anglicans. For instance, what surprise has been
expressed at what I have said in my letter to you about
our doctrine of original sin and the Immaculate Conception !
even now most men think that I have not stated them
fairly. And so with many other doctrines. I should
come to Oxford for the sake of the Catholic youth there,
who are likely to be, in the future, more numerous than
they are now, — and my first object after that would be to
soften prejudice against Catholicism by showing how much

122 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

exaggeration is used by Anglicans in speaking of it. 1 do
trust you will take a more hopeful view of my coming, if I do
come, which is not certain. Personally, it would be as pain-
^ ful a step as I could be called upon to make. Oxford never
can be to me what it was. It and I are severed. It would
be like the dead visiting the dead. 1 should be a stranger in
my dearest home. I look forward to it with great distress —
and certainly would not contemplate it except under an
imperative call of duty. But I trust that God will strengthen
me, when the time comes, if it is to come — and I trust
He will strengthen you.'

Newman hoped that the success of the * Apologia,' now
reinforced by that of the ' Letter to Pusey,' would this time
give him enough influence to carry out the Oxford plan.
The sanction of Propaganda was sought for the formation of
a branch house of the Oratory at Oxford. All seemed foi a
time to go without a hitch. There were, however, incidents
in the negotiations with Rome which depressed him. Cardinal
Reisach, whom Newman had known in Rome, came to Eng-
land with a view to ascertaining the general feeling on the
Oxford question, and Newman was never approached by him
and never even acquainted with his mission. The Cardinal
actually visited Oscott without letting Newman know that he
was near Birmingham, or calling on him. Cardinal Reisach's
informants among the clergy were carefully selected by
Manning himself, and the Cardinal was sent to pay a visit
to W. G. Ward, as the best representative of lay opinion.
The Cardinal even inspected the new ground Newman had
bought at Oxford, but without making any sign to its owner.
Newman deplored the incident deeply, and felt that no oppor-
tunity was afforded him for making Rome acquainted at first
hand with his views on the whole subject. His dejection was
less keen at this time, however, as he expressly states in his
journal, than in the years preceding the ' Apologia,' and
the Oxford proposal brought with it a ray of hope. It was
a hope for work within his capacity, and in the right direction.
It would mean fresh anxieties. Still, it would be something
practicable and useful.

As to writing he was still very cautious. Some of
his friends urged him to write more, and more explicitly,
on the whole ecclesiastical situation, and others pressed

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 123

him to go in person to Rome, and lay before the Holy
Father his views on the Oxford question and other matters
relating to the progress of the Church in England. But
Newman, while loving and revering Pius IX,, felt hope-
less of making any great impression at headquarters while
Manning was against him and while the Curia was without
any first-hand knowledge of the situation. And as to writing,
he was inclined to let well alone, and be content with the good
results of the ' Apologia ' and ' Letter to Dr. Pusey.'

He preferred not to force matters to an issue, but rather
to maintain his hold on Catholic opinion and act on the
public mind gradually. The logic of facts must be given
time to work in the desired direction. He had the sympathy
of such men as Dupanloup in France, and in England a
considerable measure of agreement and support from Bishop
Ullathorne, Bishop Clifford, and others. The English Jesuits,
largely owing to the influence of Father Coleridge, were ever
his good friends. And the ' Letter to Dr. Pusey ' had brought
fresh and more general manifestations of sympathy. Even as
to the stringent line in matters of doctrine and philosophy,
to which Rome had inclined since the Temporal Power con-
troversy began, there were reassuring signs. The Episcopate
(he learnt) had considerably modified the Syllabus before
its appearance. Some of the Bishops, moreover, were, he
found, quite alive to the dangers attendant on checking
genuine philosophical thought by stringent condemnations.
His consistent reply to those who urged him to do more in
the way of active expression of opinion or representations
to the Holy See was ' Patience ; we are in a transition
time,' He trusted to the logic of facts — a slow remedy,
but the only one consistent with the absolute submission
which he preached and practised.

The following letters illustrate his state of mind in the
years 1865 and 1866:

To Father Ambrose St, John.

'August 27th, 1865.
'The Bishop was here yesterday. He asked me if I still
thought of Oxford. I said absolutely, no. I added that I
had bought some land, but for the chances of the future, not

124 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

as connected with myself. lie said he had heard so. Well,
for the chance of things, he said, he should keep the matter
open for a year.

' He said the Cardinal Barnabo had told the Archbishop
that there would be a great meeting next year ; time and
subject uncertain. The Bishop said there was a great deal
to do in the way of discipline, e.g. about nuns, parishes,
&c. He hoped they would be cautious about touching
philosophy, — the Pope, he said, had some wish for one or two
doctrinal decrees, but he spoke as if others did not share in
it — said he was sure the Bishops' voice would be heard —
implied that the actual Syllabus was a great improvement on
what it was to have been before the Bishops took it in hand
a year or two previous to its publication.

' I wonder what the Pope's doctrinal points are. The
Bishop spoke of a meeting like that for the Immaculate
Conception, which would be a serious thing, as being so
unusual.'

To Miss Bowles.

'January 3rd, 1866.

'. . . When I published my letter to Pusey [Manning]
sent two letters praising — but a little while after he sent two
Bishops an article (in print) which was to appear in the
Dublin against portions of it, asking their sanction to it.
The one replied that, so far from agreeing with the article, he
heartily agreed with me, — the other that, since he was my
natural judge he would not commit himself by any previous
extra-judicial opinion, and on the contrary, if the article was
published, he should recommend me to commence ecclesias-
tical proceedings against the editor, in that he, a layman, had
ventured seriously to censure a priest. This was the cause of
two episcopal letters in the Tablet . . .

' Dr. F.'s letter is viost kind, and pray return him my hearty
thanks, saying that I have seen his letter. Such words as his
are words to rest upon, and thank God for. It has been my
lot, since I was a Catholic, to find few hearts among my own
friends to shew any kindness to me. . . . Our Bishop said
to me that he considered I was under a " dispensation of
mortifications " — and, in truth, since the Holy Father first in
his kindness called me to Rome, I don't think 1 have had
one single encouragement. During my stay there in 1846-7
he used some words of blame on a sermon which I preached
there (much against my will) and which was reported to him
as severe on Protestant visitors. In 1859 he sent me a
message of serious rebuke — (you are the first person anywhere

d

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 125

to whom I have told this) Mgr. Barnabo told it our Bishop,
our Bishop, Father St. John, and he to me, I have not told it
to our own Fathers — apropos of some words I used in the
Rambler which certainly might have been better chosen, but
which had really a right meaning which I could have explained.
What encouragement then have I to go to Rome or preach
at Rome, being so little able to express myself in Italian,
and so certain to be ill reported by those who ought to be
my friends ? Mgr. Talbot took part with Faber and treated
me most inconsiderately, and on that occasion the Pope
alone stood my friend, and I think he would always do so if
he were suffered.

' Well, quite synchronously with Faber's death, this other
opposition arose. I think this of him (Manning) : he wishes
me no ill, but he is determined to bend or break all opposi-
tion. He has an iron will and resolves to have his own way.
On his promotion he wished to make me a Bishop in partibzis.
I declined. I wish to have my own true liberty ; it would
have been a very false step on my part to have accepted it.
He wanted to gain me over. He has never offered me any
place or office. The only one I am fit for, the only one I
would accept, a place at Oxford, he is doing all he can to
keep me from. I have no heart or strength to do anything
at Rome as you propose. I am not better than St. Basil,
and St, Thomas of Canterbury, St. Joseph Calasanctius, or
St. Alfonso Liguori. The truth will come out when I am
gone hence.'

To THE Same.

'April 1 6th, 1866.

' As to myself, you don't consider that I am an old man
and must husband my strength. When I passed my letter
(to Pusey) through the Press and wrote my notes, I was con-
fined to my bed, or barely sitting up. I had a most serious
attack — it might have been far worse. I did not know how
much worse till (through God's mercy) it was all over. It
would have been very imprudent to have done more. Nor
would I write now, hastily. I should have much to read for
it. Recollect, to write theology is like dancing on the tight
rope some hundred feet above the ground. It is hard to keep
from falling, and the fall is great. Ladies can't be in the
position to try. The questions are so subtle, the distinctions
so fine, and critical, jealous eyes so many. Such critics would
be worth nothing, if they had not the power of writing to
Rome now that communication is made so easy, — and you

ia6 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

may get into hot water before you know where you are. The
necessity of defending myself at Rome would almost kill me
with the fidget. You don't know me when you suppose I
" take heed of the motley flock of fools." No, — it is authority
that I fear. " Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis." I have had great
work to write even what I have written, and I ought to be
most deeply thankful that I have so wonderfully succeeded.
Two Bishops, one my own, have spontaneously and gener-
ously come forward. Why cannot you believe that letter
of mine, in which I said I did not write more because I was
"tired"? This was the real reason. Then others came in.
The subject I had to write upon ^ opened, and I found I had
a great deal to read before I could write. Next, I felt I had
irritated many good people, and I wished the waves to sub-
side before I began to play the Aeolus a second time. More-
over, I was intending to make a great change. I thought at
length my time had come, I had introduced the narrow end
of the wedge, and made a split. I feared it would split
fiercely and irregularly, and I thought by withdrawing the
wedge the split might be left at present more naturally to
increase itself. Everything I see confirms me in my view. I
have various letters from all parts of the country approving
of what 1 have already done. The less I do myself, the more
others will do. It is not well to put oneself too forward.
Englishmen don't like to be driven. I am sure it is good
policy to be quiet just now.

' I have long said : " the night cometh," &c., but that does
not make it right to act in a hurry. Better not do a thing
than do it badly. I must be patient and wait on God. If it
is His Will I should do more He will give me time. I am
not serving Him by blundering.

' You will be glad to know, (what, at present, is a great
secret) that we are likely to have a house at Oxford after all.
Be patient and all will be well.'

To THE Same.

' May 23rd, 1866,

' I should have written to you before this to say so, but I
have hoped day by day to tell you something of this Oxford
scheme, but I have nothing to tell. It is just a month to-day
since we sent in our remarks on the Bishop's offer, and he
has not yet replied. He called and asked the meaning of
some parts of the letter, and no answer has come. I do not
think his hesitation arises so much from anything we have

' Papal Infallibility.

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 127

said, as from a vague misgiving when it comes to the point,
and perhaps from what people say to him. Two years ago
there was a bold assertion that I was just the last man
whom Oxford men would bear to be in Oxford, and from
something the Bishop said it would appear that this idea is
not altogether without effect upon him. I wish it were de-
cided one way or the other, for it keeps us in various ways
in suspense. It must now be decided for good and all, for
my age neither promises a future, nor is consistent with this
work-impeding uncertainty.

' We are going to have a Latin Play next week in honour
of St. Philip. I wish you were with us.'

To THE Same.

'Nov. nth, 1866.
'I got your July letter before I set out, though I had not
time to answer it. You were the first to give me information
of Cardinal Reisach being in England. Had I had the
slightest encouragement, I should have called on him, for
I knew him at Rome. But, though he was at Oscott, I did
not know of it till he was gone. Mr. Pope from this house
went up to London and saw the Archbishop and the
Cardinal. Neither of them even mentioned my name. The
Cardinal was sent, I am told, for three days to W. G. Ward's,
where of course he would hear one side fairly and fully
enough, but it is a one-sided way of getting at the true state
of things to be content with the information of a violent
partizan. It is on account of things of this kind that I view
with equanimity the prospect of a thorough routing out of
things at Rome, — not till some great convulsions take place
(which may go on for years and years, and when I can do
neither good nor harm) and religion is felt to be in the midst
of trials, red-tapism will go out of Rome, and a better spirit
come in, and Cardinals and Archbishops will have some of
the reality they had, amid many abuses, in the Middle Ages.
At present things are in appearance as effete, though in a
different way, thank God, as they were in the tenth century.
We are sinking into a sort of Novatianism — the heresy which
the early Popes so strenuously resisted. Instead of aiming
at being a world-wide power, we are shrinking into ourselves,
narrowing the lines of communion, trembling at freedom of
thought, and using the language of dismay and despair at
the prospect before us, instead of, with the high spirit of the
warrior, going out conquering and to conquer. ... I believe
the Pope's spirit is simply that of martyrdom, and is utterly
different from that implied in these gratuitous shriekings

128 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

which surround his throne. But the power of God is abroad
upon the earth, and He will settle things in spite of what
cliques and parties may decide.

' I am glad you like my sermon, — the one thing I wished
to oppose is the coward despairing spirit of the day.'

'January Sih, 1867.

' When I heard those words of the Holy Father [criticis-
ing the Rambler article already referred to], I was far from
silent under them. It has always seemed to me, as the
Saints say, that self-defence, though not advisable ordinarily,
is a duty when it is a question of faith. The Bishop too
wished me to write to Rome ; but the question was, to
whom. He proposed Mgr. Barnabo, but I explained that
I could not account him my friend. The question then
was, to whom else? Cardinal Wiseman was at Rome, and
I wrote to him a long letter minutely going into the matter,
and saying that, if I were only told what the special points
were in which I was wrong, I would explain myself and
I had no doubt I could do so most satisfactorily. The
Cardinal got my letter, but he never answered it, never
alluded to it. But six (I think) months after he sent me a
message by Dr. Manning, to say that I should not hear
more of it.

' I wished to explain, because it is impossible I should
not hear more of it, — indeed I know it created a lasting
suspicion on the minds of Roman authorities. The Bishop
had advised me to give up the Rambler^ else I should have
taken an opportunity of attempting to explain myself in a
subsequent number. I say " attempt," for it is poor work
answering when you do not know the point of the charge.
The Bishop indeed had told me the paragraph, and in-
dependently of him a theologian in England had charged
mc with heresy on two or three counts, but I could not
answer a man who had condemned before he heard me.
What I have ever intended to do was to take the first
opportunity of explaining myself. Last year I thought my
letter to Pusey would have given me an opportunity ; so it
would if I had gone on to the subject of the Pope and the
Church, — and if I still go on to it, I probably shall do as
I intended. . . .

' I have already asked the Bishop about our collecting
money [for the Oxford scheme]. You speak as if I were
dawdling and losing time. So I should be if the work were
one which / had chosen as God's work. But on the contrary,
it has been forced on mc against my will, and certainly, if

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) "9

not against my judgment, yet not with it, or my will would
not be against it. It would be a great inconsistency in me
to let six months pass and do nothing were I convinced it
was the will of Providence, — -but I do not feel this. I only
go because I fear to be deaf to a Divine call, but, if anything
happened in the six months to prevent it, that would be to
me a sign that there never had been a Divine call. It is
cowardice not to fight when you feel it to be your duty to
fight, but, when you do not feel it is your duty, to fight
is not bravery, but self will.

' As to defending myself, you may make yourself quite
sure I never will, unless it is a simple duty. Such is a
charge against my religious faith — such against my veracity
— such any charge in which the cause of religion is involved.
But, did I go out and battle commonly, I should lose my
time, my peace, my strength, and only shew a detestable
sensitiveness. I consider that Time is the great remedy
and Avenger of all wrongs, as far as this world goes. If
only we are patient, God works for us. He works for those
who do not work for themselves. Of course an inward
brooding over injuries is not patience, but a recollecting with
a view to the future is prudence.'

The renewed opposition of Ward and Herbert Vaughan
to the Oxford scheme, and their conviction that Newman's
presence there would prove a magnet, now as in 1864 encom-
passed his scheme with immense difficulties. * As Cardinal
Barnabo has already on three distinct occasions acted un-
comfortably towards me,' Newman wrote to Canon Walker,
' I will begin nothing and will spend nothing until I have his
leave so distinctly that he cannot undo it. Nothing can be
kinder or more considerate than the Bishop has been. And
besides, since I know that there were powerful influences
from home which were especially directed against the Oratory
going to Oxford in 1864, the event will alone decide whether
or not those influences will remain in a quiescent state now.'

Still, to give to Newman and his Oratory the Oxford
Mission was so simple a proposal, and one so obviously
within the discretion of his diocesan, that it was hardly con-
ceivable that Propaganda would refuse to allow it. It was
understood from the first that no allusion to the bearing of
the scheme on the interests of Catholic undergraduates at
Oxford was to be made in any public announcement. A
VOL. II. K

130 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

church to be built by Newman in Oxford, as a memorial of
the Oxford conversions, was an unassailable project. A fresh
plot of ground in St. Aldate's Street had been bought by
Newman before the end of 1865, and Father William Neville
bought two adjoining plots in 1866. Negotiations were
pending as to another piece of land belonging to the St.
Aldate's traders ; but still, the suspicions in some quarters
that any fresh connection between Newman and Oxford
would mean an encouragement of ' mixed education,' made
him hesitate to clinch the bargain, lest his purchases might
again prove useless and the land have simply to be
re-sold. He was for months in most painful uncertainty as
to the future. On May 17, 1866, he writes to James
Hope-Scott deeply depressed and full of doubt as to the
issue of events. On June 10, on the other hand, he tells
Lord Blachford that his going to Oxford is all but certain.
He had at this time that vivid sense of the difficulties of
his task which rendered all initiation so irksome to him.
It had been the same with each work he had attempted
as a Catholic — the foundation of the Oratory and of the
Catholic University, the Scripture translation, the editorship
of the RiDiibler. He wrote thus to W. J. Copeland at the
end of May :

* You can't tell how very much down I am at the thought
of going to Oxford, which is now very probable. I should
not go there with any intention of catching at converts —
though of course I wish to bring out clearly and fully what
I feel to be the Truth — but the notion of getting into hot
water, is most distasteful to me, now when I wish to be a
little quiet. I cannot be in a happier position than I am.
But, were I ever so sure of incurring no collisions with
persons I love, still the mere publicity is a great trial to
me. And even putting that aside, the very seeing Oxford
again, since I am not one with it, would be a cruel thing — it
is like the dead coming to the dead. O dear, dear, how I
dread it — but it seems to be the will of God, and I do not
know how to draw back.'

To St. John he wrote from London on June 23 :

' Westminster Palace Hotel : Saturday.
' Hope-Scott has sent William [Neville] to Oxford this
morning to see about buying more land. He is to return by

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 131

dinner time, and we dine with Hope-Scott at half past
seven.

' We dined with Acton yesterday, and after dinner came
Monteith, the O'Conor Don, Mr. Maxwell, Blennerhassett,
&c. On Thursday we met at Hope-Scott's all the Kerrs.
At Gladstone's breakfast I met young Lady Lothian, Lord
Lyttelton, General Beauregard &c. Tomorrow we lunch with
the [Frank] Wards and dine with Bellasis. On Thursday I am
to dine with the Simeons to meet Mr. Chichester Fortescue,
Stanley and pcrhajDS Gladstone. On Monday we shall break-
fast with Badeley. So you see in my old age I am learning
to be a man of fashion.'

On July 25 Newman sends Hope-Scott a letter from
Bishop Ullathorne ' which seems to show that we shall not
be sent to Oxford at all.'

By the end of the year, however, the permission of
Propaganda was obtained, and Newman was at last enabled
to issue a formal circular, which ran as follows :

' Father Newman, having been entrusted with the Mission
of Oxford, is proceeding, with the sanction of Propaganda, to
the establishment there of a House of the Oratory.

' Some such establishment in one of the great seats of
learning seems to be demanded of English Catholics, at a
time when the relaxation both of controversial animosity and
of legal restriction has allowed them to appear before their
countrymen in the full profession and the genuine attributes
of their Holy Religion.

' And, while there is no place in England more likely
than Oxford to receive a Catholic community with fairness,
interest, and intelligent curiosity, so on the other hand the
English Oratory has this singular encouragement in placing
itself there, that it has been expressly created and blessed
by the reigning Pontiff for the very purpose of bringing
Catholicity before the educated classes of society, and
especially those classes which represent the traditions and
the teaching of Oxford,

' Moreover, since many of its priests have been educated
at the Universities, it brings to its work an acquaintance and
a sympathy with academical habits and sentiments, which
are a guarantee of its inoffensive bearing towards the members
of another communion, and which will specially enable it to
discharge its sacred duties in the peaceable and conciliatory
spirit which is the historical characteristic of the sons of
St. Philip Neri.

/^

132 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Father Newman has already secured a site for an
Oratory Church and buildings in an eligible part of Oxford ;
and he now addresses himself to the work of collecting the
sums necessary for carrying his important undertaking into
effect. This he is able to do under the sanction of the
following letter from the Bishop of the diocese, which it
gives him great satisfaction to publish :

"'My dear Dr. Newman, — Oxford is the only city in
England of importance, which has a Catholic congregation
without a Catholic Church. A small room, devoid of archi-
tectural pretension, built three quarters of a century ago,
at the back of the priest's dwelling, and in the suburb of
St. Clement's, represents the hidden and almost ignominious
position of Catholic worship at Oxford. The only school-
room for Catholic children is a sort of scullery attached to
the same priest's residence, which most of the children can
only reach after an hour's walk from their homes. Even the
Protestants of Oxford cry shame upon this state of things ;
whilst the Catholics have long and earnestly desired to see it
amended.

' " It is then with great satisfaction that I find you disposed
to answer the call, so often made upon you, to build a Church
in Oxford, with the view of ultimately establishing an Oratory
there of St. Philip Neri.

' " Whatever exertions, and whatever sacrifices, this under-
taking may call for at your hands, I believe that your taking
up the work of building a Church and Oratory in Oxford
will secure its accomplishment. You will awaken an interest
in the work, and will draw forth a disposition in many
persons to help and to co-operate in its success, which
another might fail to do.

' " If we consider it as a monument of gratitude to God for
the conversions of the last thirty years ; who could be so
properly placed in front of this undertaking? If we look
upon that Mission as the witness of Catholic Truth in the
chief centre of Anglican enquiry, whose name can be so fitly
associated with that Mission ? If we take the generous work
to our hearts in its prime intention, that of saving souls for
whom Christ died, who of all good Catholics will refuse to
join their generosity with yours, in building up this blessed
work for the glory of God, and for peace and good will to
men ?

'"I pray God, then, to bless you and to prosper the
work He has given you to accomplish ; and I pray also
that He will deign to bless and to reward all these

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 133

Christian souls who shall co-operate with you in this work
of benediction.

'" And I remain, my dear Dr. Newman,

Your faithful and affectionate servant in Christ,
^ W. B. Ullathorne.
' " To the Very Rev. Dr. Newman."

' It is under these circumstances, with these reasonable
claims, and with this authoritative sanction, that Father
Newman brings his object before the public ; and he ventures
to solicit all who take an interest in it for contributions
upon a scale adequate to the occasion, contributions large
enough and numerous enough for carrying out an important
work in a manner worthy of the Catholic name, worthy of
the most beautiful city and one of the great and ancient
Universities of England.

' It is considered that, on the lowest computation, the
outlay for ground, house and church will not be less than
from 8,000/. to 10,000/.

' Birmingham, Tlie Octave of the Epiphany, 1867.'

The circular gave joy to the compact phalanx of the
laity who had for four years been Newman's supporters in
the scheme. It struck a chord of sympathy, too, in old
Oxford friends like Father Coleridge and Monsignor
Patterson, who, though endorsing the anti-Oxford policy of
the Bishops, cherished still the old reverence for Newman
and the old love for Oxford. Patterson wrote to express
his happiness at the prospect and sent 100/ The very fact
that so intimate a friend of Cardinal Wiseman — intimate too,
though in a lesser degree, with his successor — hailed the pro-
posed plan, showed that it was regarded at this moment in
high places without avowed disapproval. Patterson's letter
expressed the feeling which was in many hearts :

' January 29th, 1867.

* My dear Father Newman, — I can hardly tell you with
what feelings I read your note and the circular. Under God
I owe the opening of my mind to His Truth to Oxford —
Oxford with its spirit of reverence for the past, its very walls
and stones crying out of Catholic times and preaching of
the City of the living God. And that they were thus vocal
we chiefly owe to you. It was you who heard and interpreted
them aright and showed to us, then youths, the beauty of
Catholic conduct — I allude particularly to that act of yours,

134 I'IFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

when in the noontide of your leadership of the good cause,
at the word of him whom you esteemed your Bishop you
arrested the prime source and current of all your influence
without a word of remonstrance or explanation. I cannot
but believe that this heroic act was congruously rewarded in
your submission to the faith, and now I see the Hand of God
in your being brought back to preach once more in Oxford
with the certainty of faith much that you taught us of old as
your most earnest conviction, at the wish of your Bishop and
with the sanction of Rome. The gcjiius loci is so potent that
I sincerely believe there is danger to the faith of young
Catholics who go to Oxford, and as some I fear at any rate
will study there, it is of the utmost moment that the mission
should be a first-rate one in every point of view.

' Sunday was the feast of St. John Chrysostom, and I
offered the Most Holy Sacrifice in his honour that, as you
emulate his eloquence and his learning, you may also, by
his intercession, rival him in the success of your ministry.

' I heartily wish I could make some offering less inadequate
to your charitable labour, and the benefits I owe to Oxford.
As it is, I must content myself with the sum of which I
enclose half, and if you think my name can possibly be of
any use it is entirely at your service.

* Believe me,

Ever yours,

J. L. Patterson.'

Newman thus replied :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : January 30th, 1867.

' My dear Patterson, — Your warm and affectionate letter
has quite overpowered me. Such feelings are the earnest of
efficacious prayers. I shall do well if those prayers go with
me. My age is such that I ought to work fast before the
night comes, — yet I never can work fast ; I don't expect
then much to come of my being at Oxford in what remains
to me of life, but, if I have such good prayers as yours, what
I may do will bear fruit afterwards. I cannot help having
as great a devotion to St. Chrysostom as to any Saint in the
Calendar. On his day I came to Birmingham to begin the
Mission 18 years ago. It was very kind of you to say Mass
for me under his intercession. I have said above : " I cannot
help," because in most cases from circumstances one chooses
one's Saints as patrons, — but St. Chrysostom comes upon one,
whether one will or no, and by his sweetness and naturalness
compels one's devotion.

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 135

' Thank you for the cheque for 50/., the moiety of your
liberal contribution.

' Yours affectionately in Christ,

John H. Newman.'

While the circular respecting the Oxford Mission was
widely welcome, it raised a difficulty in the minds of those
who did not know the forces at work. Many welcomed
Newman's project just because their sons would when going
to Oxford have his influence and personal help to support
them. Why, then, was no allusion made at all in the circular
to the Catholic undergraduates ? But in truth the campaign
against sending Catholic boys to Oxford was so energetic
that, at the very time when fathers of families were asking
this question, Newman received a message from Propaganda
peremptorily rebuking him for preparing boys for Oxford at
the Oratory school. In his despondency he feared that the
school might share the cloud which seemed to be cast over
himself and all his work. Father Ambrose was deputed to
go to Rome and explain matters ; and to the parents of the
boys he frankly told the state of the case, as in the following
letter to Sir Justin Shell :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : March 22ncl, 1867.

' My dear Sir Justin, — A diplomatist and a man of high
commands as you have been will allow me, without being
thought to take a liberty with you, to ask your confidence
while I freely tell you my position as regards our Oratory
undertaking.

' Two or three years ago, when it was settled by our
Bishop that I was to go there, it was on the strict condition
that the Oratory took no part in the education of the place.
I drew up a circular in which I said merely : " that I went
for the sake of the religious instruction of the Catholic youth
there " ; and to my surprise the late Cardinal was so angry
even with my recognising the fact of their being at Oxford in
any way, that he sent the news of it to Rome, though I had
not actually issued the paper, and it has created a prejudice
against me ever since. Accordingly in the circular I sent you
the other day, I could not put in a word about Catholic youth
being at Oxford ; and the intention of the present Archbishop
is, if he can, to stamp them out from the place. However,
this has not been enough, — a further step has been taken, for
last Monday I got a letter from Propaganda saying that they

y

136 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

had heard that I had in my School here some youths
preparing for Oxford, and solemnly ordering me neither
directly nor indirectly to do anything to promote young men
going there.

' You are too well acquainted with a soldier's duties, not
to know that it is impossible for me to disobey the orders of
my commanders in the Church Militant. So, what I must do
as regards the School is, to my great sorrow, to relinquish
those who go to Oxford for a short time before they go
there, if I should find they need, in addition to the general
instruction we give them here, any special preparation for the
University.

' Now before proceeding, I will tell you my own opinion
on the matter. I differ from you decidedly in this, viz., that,
if I had my will, I would have a large Catholic University, as
I hoped might have been set up in Dublin when I went there.
But I hold this to be a speculative perfection which cannot
be carried out in practice, — and then comes the question what
is to be done under the circumstances. Secondly then, I say
/ that Oxford is a very dangerous place to faith and morals.
This I grant, but then I say that all places are dangerous, —
I the world is dangerous. I do not believe that Oxford is
more dangerous than Woolwich, than the arm.y, than
London, — and I think you cannot keep young men under
glass cases. Therefore I am on the whole not against young
men going to Oxford ; though at the same time there are
those whom, from their special circumstances, of idleness,
extravagance, &c. &c., I certainly should not advise to go
there.

' Such is my opinion, and it will surprise you to hear that,
be it good or be it bad, no one in authority has ever asked
for it all through the discussion of the last two or three
years.

* And now let me go on to the practical question of the
moment. From that and other articles in the Westminster
Gazette, and from the letters which have come to me from
Propaganda, I am sure that more stringent measures are
intended, to hinder young Catholics going to Oxford, and
1 think they can only be prevented by the laity. What
I should like you to do then is not to withdraw your name
from our subscription list, but to join with other contributors,
as you have a right to do, in letting me know formally your
own opinion on the subject. And for myself I can only say
that, if I find the sense of the contributors is against my
going to Oxford without their being let alone in sending

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 137

their sons there, I will not take their money, as I should be
doing so under false pretences.

' My dear Sir Justin,

Sincerely yours,

John H. Newman.'

Such scruples as those expressed in the concluding words
of this letter were not regarded by Newman's friends. Con-
tributions came in freely, and the establishment of an Oxford
Oratory was spoken of as an assured prospect.

At last, then, after the three years of suspense, after all
the ups and downs of the struggle, the pain caused by the
opposition of old friends, the greater pain given by the
charges against his loyalty as a Catholic, all seemed to
promise well. The one position in which he felt he could, in
the years that remained to him, do a real work for the Church
seemed assured to him. He thought he saw God's Will
clearly. If any fresh enterprise was at his age anxious and
hard, to support him in this he had the conviction that it was
to him a most suitable task and was assigned him by lawful
authority. The clinging affection he ever preserved for
Oxford, moreover, must make it a labour of love.

He was now actively engaged in discussing the site of
the new church. Was it to be built on the ground he had ?
Or should a new site of which he had heard be preferred to
the old ?

' Our present piece,' he writes to Hope-Scott, ' is so situated
as to be almost shaking a fist at Christ Church. It is osten-
tatious— no one can go in or out of our projected Church
without being seen. Again it is not central — but New Inn
Hall Street at one end of it leads into St. Ebbe's and to St.
Thomas' — at the other end it opens upon St. Mary Magdalen's
Church and Broad Street and Jesus Lane — and by George
Lane upon Worcester College &c. and St. Giles' and Park
Villas — and being approached in such various ways it is
approachable silently. Again the Union Debating Room is
on the opposite side of the street — and opens into the street
at its back through its garden. There is a good (but ugly)
stone house upon the ground flush with the street, which
would save building as far as it goes — whereas our houses
opposite Christ Church are lath and plaster. Of course the
question occurs whether we can get our present ground off

r

1 38 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

our hands. Again, though I have not asked many people
yet, still as yet I hear no one in favour of the new ground.
Gaisford, Pollen, and Glutton the architect, are for keeping
what we have got.'

Although the formal permission — so he was told — had
come from Rome, the old Oxford priest, Mr. Gomberbach,
whose place the Oratorians were to take, seemed to be un-
accountably slow in moving, and put the new-comers off with
excuse after excuse. But this was regarded at the Oratory
as only a rather tiresome eccentricity. Newman, impatient to
make his plans, sent Father William Neville on March 21 to
ascertain definitely the date of Mr. Gomberbach's departure,
and he at last announced that he should be gone soon after
Easter. Neville was to go to Oxford again on Saturday,
April 6 — the eve of Passion Sunday. In the morning he
packed his portmanteau, and then, in company with Newman,
went for a long-remembered walk on the Highfield Road, past
St. George's Ghurch. The memory of it was handed on by
Father Neville to the present writer, in more than one conver-
sation. Newman, sunshine on his face, talked of the prospect.
' Earlier failures do not matter now,' he said ; ' I see that I
have been reserved by God for this. There are signs of a
religious reaction in Oxford against the Liberalism and in-
differentism of ten years ago. It is evidently a moment
when a strong and persuasive assertion of Christian and
Catholic principles will be invaluable. Such men as Mark
Pattison may conceivably be won over. Although I am not
young, I feel as full of life and thought as ever I did. It may
prove to be the inauguration of a second Oxford Movement.'
Then he turned to the practical object of Neville's visit.
' Have a good look at the Catholic undergraduates in Church.
Tell me how many they are. Try and find out ivho they are
and what they arc like. Let me know where they sit in the
Ghurch, that I may picture beforehand how I shall have to
stand when I preach, in order to see them naturally, and
address them. Tell me, too, what the Church services are
at present, and we will discuss what changes may be made
with advantage.' Thus happily talking they returned to
the Oratory. The servant, who opened the door to admit
them, at once gave Newman a long blue envelope, and said :

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1S67) 139

' Canon Estcourt has called from the Bishop's house and
asked me to be sure to give you this immediately on your
return.' Newman opened and read the letter, and turned
to William Neville : ' All is over. I am not allowed to go.'
No word more was spoken. The Father covered his face
with his hands, and left his friend, who went to his room and
unpacked his portmanteau.

What the Bishop's letter told Newman was this : that,
coupled with the formal permission for an Oratory at Oxford,
Propaganda had sent a ' secret instruction ' to Dr. Ullathorne,
to the effect that, if Newman himself showed signs of intend-
ing to reside there, the Bishop was to do his best * blandly
and suavely ' (' blande suaviterque ') to recall him.^ Mr.
Comberbach's delay was explained. The Bishop had pur-
posed going to Rome and getting this instruction cancelled.
He trusted, therefore, that Newman would never hear of it,
for he knew that he might easily interpret it as showing a
want of confidence in him on the part of Rome.

The ' instruction ' was evidently the result of a compromise
between the parties who were for and against the Oxford
Oratory. The friends of Ward and Vaughan had urged that
Newman's residence in Oxford would attract all Catholic
young men to the University. Yet a strong party favoured
his scheme. To grant an Oratory, provided it did not mean
Newman's permanent residence at Oxford, seemed a mezzo
termine. The Bishop had mentioned when consulting Propa-
ganda that Newman had disclaimed, in speaking to him, any
intention of residing at Oxford. This had been urged by
Newman's friends as a strong argument against inhibiting the
scheme. If Newman did not mean to live at Oxford there
was really no case for forbidding the new Oratory. This
argument proved decisive. Newman's friends prevailed.
Permission was accorded. But at the last moment the Holy
Father had pointed out that the decisive argument rested on
the rather precarious basis of a remark of Newman to his
Bishop. The Bishop should be instructed to make sure that
this part of the arrangement was carried out.^ But he was to

' ' Patrem Newman si forte de sua residentia in urbem Oxfordiensem trans-
ferenda cogitantem videris . . . blande suaviterque revocare studeas.'
- The Holy Father himself insisted on this point, see p. 161.

I40 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

use the utmost courtesy and only to speak in case of necessity.
Hence the secret instruction.

But while the Bishop had kept the affair secret, now it had
leaked out in the papers. A Catholic layman, Mr. Martin,
the Roman correspondent of the Weekly Register, had come
to know of it privately, and had stated in a letter to that
journal, published anonymously, that the Holy Father had

* inhibited ' Newman's proposed Mission. He had, moreover,
hinted at just that interpretation of this step which would
be most painful to Newman — that it was due to suspicions
at Rome in regard of his orthodoxy.^ The only possible
plan therefore was to tell the whole story to Newman with-
out delay, before unauthorised rumours could reach him.
' The letter in question,' Newman wrote to Canon Walker
on April 14, 'is by Mr. Martin, the person whom Dr. Clifford
and my own Bishop answered last year. He is of course
nothing in himself — but he represents unseen and unknown
persons. His interference has been most happy — for he has
let the cat out of the bag — and a black cat it is. It may
do a great deal of mischief — that is, the cat, not his reveal-
ing it— for, depend upon it, its owners are men of influence.'
To the Oratorian community at large scarcely a word more
was said. On the spur of the moment Newman wrote to
the Bishop resigning the Oxford Mission. But those Fathers
whom he consulted recommended delay, and the letter was
kept back. A full explanation of the ' secret instruction '
(these Fathers held) must be sought in Rome. Newman's own
action must also be vindicated if necessary. And, for this, the
coming visit of Ambrose St. John and Bittleston (in con-
nection with the affairs of the school) offered an exception-
ally good opportunity which Newman determined to utilise.

Meanwhile Newman's own sad and indignant feelings are
given in the following letters to Henry Wilberforce and to
Father Coleridge :

* Private. The Oratory, Birmingham: April i6th, 1867.

* My dear Henry, — Thank you for your kind letter.

' The Weekly Register letter has been my good friend
... as necessitating the disclosure of some things which
Cardinal Barnabo hid from me, and which would have

' For the text of the letter in the Weekly Keoister see Appendix, p. 543.

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 141

prevented me from accepting the Mission of Oxford, had I
known of them. No sort of blame attaches to our Bishop,
who is my good friend — He hoped to have made these
crooked ways straight, which he could not prevent existing,
for they were not his ways ; but Mr. Martin was too much
for him, and, before he could gain his point, has let the
cat out of the bag. . . . Do you recollect in " Harold the
Dauntless " how the Abbot of Durham gets over the fierce
pagan Dane ? Since that time there has been a tradition
among the Italians that the lay mind is barbaric — fierce and
stupid — and is destined to be outwitted, and that fine craft
is the true weapon of Churchmen. When I say the lay mind,
I speak too narrowly — it is the Saxon, Teuton, Scandinavian,
French mind. Cardinal Barnabo has been trying his hand
on my barbarism — and has given directions that if I took his
leave to go to Oxford to the letter, and did go there, I was
to be recalled " blande et suaviter." Hope-Scott is so pained
that he has withdrawn his 1000/.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

Dr. Newman to Father Coleridge.

'The Orator}-, Birmingham : April 26th, 1867.

' My dear Father Coleridge, — , . . When last Christmas I
found the words " conditionate et provisorie " in the letter (of
Cardinal Barnabo) to our Bishop, (though I had no suspicion
at all of a secret instruction such as there really was con-
tained in it) I told the Bishop formally my suspicions. . . ,
You may fancy how he felt what I said, being conscious, as
he was, of the secret instruction — and so he said that I had
better wait till he went to Rome in May, and I have waited,
except that I have begun to collect the money. Also I was
going to commence my personal work at Oxford on the
second Sunday after Easter, intending to preach every
Sunday through the term, which, had I carried it out, would
have led to a certainty to the Bishop's " blanda et suavis
revocatio " ; and thus, as it turns out, even though Mr. Martin
had not written a word, things would have come to a crisis.
The reason determining me to go to Oxford at once, in spite
of the Bishop's advice at Christmas (though he fully came
into the plan of the Oratory going to Oxford at Easter), when
I after a while proposed it, was the delay that was likely to
take place in beginning the Church, and all my friends kept
saying : " You must do sotnething directly to clench on your
part Propaganda's permission to go, or the Archbishop will

142 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

be getting the permission reversed." When then I found it
impossible to make a demonstration in bricks and mortar
(which for myself I had, in consequence of the suspicions felt,
deprecated) nothing remained but to make a demonstration
by actually preaching at Oxford, — and this was to my view
of the matter far more acceptable because a counter order
from Propaganda would have been serious, had we begun to
build, but would have been of no consequence at all, had we
done nothing more than preach in the Chapel at St. Clement's.

' However, as it has turned out, I am stopped both before
building and preaching.

' It is perfectly true, as you say, that both sides have not
been heard at Rome. The questions you speak of circulated
in December 1864, were too painful to speak about. For
myself, up to this date no one has asked my opinion,
and then those who might, by asking, have known it, have
encouraged or suffered all sorts of reports as to what my
opinion is, instead of coming to me for it.

' It is my cross to have false stories circulated about me,
and to. be suspected in consequence. I could not have a
lighter one. I would not change it for any other. Ten years
ago I was accused to the Pope of many things (nothing to do
with doctrine). I went off to Rome at an enormous in-
convenience, and had two interviews with the Holy Father,
tete-d-tcte. He was most kind, and acquitted me. But
hardly was my back turned but my enemies (for so I must
call '^&Ti\) practically ^ot the upper hand. Our Bishop seems
to think no great good comes of seeing the Pope, if it is only
once seeing him. What chance have I against persons who
are day by day at his elbow ? . . .

' For twenty years I have honestly and sensitively done
my best to fulfil the letter and spirit of the directions of the
Holy See and Propaganda, and I never have obtained the
confidence of anyone at Rome. Only last year Cardinal
Reisach came to England. I had known him in Rome.
He never let me know he was in England. He came to
Oscott, and I did not know it. He went to see my ground
at Oxford, but he was committed, not to me, but to the
charge of Father Coffin. . . .

' I have lost my desire to gain the good will of those who
thus look on me. I have abundant consolation in the
unanimous sympathy of those around me. I trust I shall
ever give a hearty obedience to Rome, but I never expect
in my lifetime any recognition of it.

' Yours most sincerely,

John H. Newman.'

OXFORD AGAIN {1866-1867) 143

The utmost indignation was felt and expressed by
Newman's friends at the anonymous attack in the Weekly
Register, and by many of them at the * secret instruction ' on
the part of Propaganda against his residing at Oxford. This
'instruction' could not be ostensibly attacked. But it was
open to those who desired to convey to Newman the feelings
it aroused, to express their indignation at the anonymous letter
in the newspapers, and their loyal devotion to him. And at
the suggestion of Mr. Monsell this course was adopted. An
address was presented to him signed by upwards of two
hundred names, including nearly all the most prominent
members of the English laity, and headed by Lord Edward
Howard, the deputy Earl Marshal and guardian to the young
Duke of Norfolk.

The signatures were obtained with great rapidity, at a
meeting convened at the Stafford Club directly Mr. Monsell
had learnt the state of the case, and before it was known to
Newman himself, who had not seen the letter in the Weekly
Register} It was dated, indeed, as will be seen, on the very
day of Newman's memorable walk with Father Neville before
he received the Bishop's note. Its text ran as follows :

'To THE Very Rev. John Henry Newman.

' We, the undersigned, have been deeply pained at some
anonymous attacks which have been made upon you. They
may be of little importance in themselves, but we feel that
every blow that touches you inflicts a wound upon the
Catholic Church in this country. We hope, therefore, that
you will not think it presumptuous in us to express our
gratitude for all we owe you, and to assure you how heartily
we appreciate the services which, under God, you have been
the means of rendering to our holy religion.

' Signed The Lord Edward Fitzalan Howard,
Deputy Earl Marshal ;
The Earl of Denbigh, etc.

'Stafford Club, 6th April 1867.'

' The names of Acton, Simpson, and Wetherell do not appear in the address.
It was significant of the general feeling against them that Mr. Monsell had to tell
Wetherell that he had abstained from asking for their names at first as their
presence in the list would prevent others from signing. Mr. Wetherell replied
that this was equally a reason for his declining to sign at the last moment. Acton
and Simpson were away from England,

144 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Newman's answer ran as follows :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : 1 2th April 1867.

' My dear Monsell, — I acknowledge without delay the
high honour done me in the Memorial addressed to me by
so many Catholic noblemen and gentlemen, which you
have been the medium of conveying to me. The attacks of
opponents are never hard to bear when the person who is
the subject of them is conscious to himself that they are
undeserved, but in the present instance I have small cause
indeed for pain or regret at their occurrence, since they have
at once elicited in my behalf the warm feelings of so many
dear friends who know me well, and of so many others
whose good opinion is the more impartial for the very reason
that I am not personally known to them. Of such men,
whether friends or strangers to me, I would a hundred
times rather receive the generous sympathy than have
escaped the misrepresentations which are the occasion of
their showing it.

' I rely on you, my dear Monsell, who from long inti-
macy understand me so well, to make clear to them my deep
and lasting gratitude in fuller terms than it is possible,
within the limit of a formal acknowledgement, to express
it. — I am ever your affectionate friend,

'John H. Newman.'

That this address was disliked by the extreme party both
in England and in Rome, we know from an interesting ex-
change of letters between Archbishop Manning and Monsignor
Talbot. Manning had his friends among the laity who agreed
with him on the Oxford question. And it appears that Mr.
Monsell, who at first intended to refer directly to it in the
address, had to refrain from doing so in order to gain im-
portant signatures. W. G. Ward objected to the sentence,
* any blow which touches you inflicts a wound upon the
Catholic Church in this country,' as clearly referring to the
blow Propaganda had struck at Newman in preventing his
going to Oxford — for the Register letter could hardly be
treated as important enough to warrant any such expression.
Monsell, however, declined to change this expression, and
Ward did not sign the address.

It is clear that the Archbishop was in some alarm lest so
influential an address might make Propaganda waver in its
policy on the Oxford question, and he wrote to Monsignor
Talbot with the object of stiffening its back :

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 145

' 8 York Place, W. : 13th Ap. 1867.

' My dear Monsignor Talbot, — You will see in the Tablet
an address to Dr. Newman signed by most of our chief
laymen.

' The excessive and personal letter in the W. Register has
caused it.

' I. The address carefully omits all reference to Oxford.

* 2. It is signed also by men most opposed to our youth
going there, e.g. Lord Petre.

'3. But it will be used, and by some it is intended, as a
means of pushing onward Dr. Newman's going to Oxford,
and ultimately the University scheme. I only wish you to
be guarded against supposing the Address to prove that the
signers are in favour of the Oxford scheme. Do not let
Propaganda alarm itself If it will only h^ firm and clear we
shall get through all this and more.

' But if it yield I cannot answer for the future.

* It will be necessary to take care that no such letters from
Rome be sent to our papers. Can you do anything? —
Always affectionately yours,

' H. E. M.'

A second letter written a week later gives some further
particulars as to the drafting of the address :

'8 York Place, W. : Easter Monday, 22nd April 1867.

' My dear Monsignor Talbot, — . . . This Address of the
laity is as you say a revelation of the absence of Catholic
instinct, and the presence of a spirit dangerous in many.

• I. It was got up by Mr. Monsell, always in favour of a
College in Oxford, and Mr. Frank Ward, whose son is there
after preparing with Walford !

' 2. In the first draft the Oxford University question was
expressed. Many refused to sign.

• 3. It was then amended to " Oxford Mission." They
refused still.

' 4. It was then reduced to its present terms, and so got
them, not without objection.

' 5- As it stands it implies that in Dr. Newman's writings
there is nothing open to censure, and that to touch him is to
wound the Catholic Church.

' But if Rome should touch him ?

' The whole movement is sustained by those who wish young
Catholics to go to Oxford.

' The Bishop of Birmingham, I must suppose uncon-
sciously, has been used by them. It is a great crisis of
VOL. II. L

146 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

danger to him. Only do not let him alarm Propaganda by
the names and number of these lay signatures.

' Many have declared to me that they are as strong against
Oxford as I am.

' The moment this point is raised the Address will go to
pieces.

' I have taken care to clear you of all relation to
Mr. Martin, and you may rely upon my not wavering.
The affair is full of pain, but even this will work for good.

' Pray place me at the feet of His Holiness, and offer my
thanks for providing a home so near to his own side, and by
the Apostles.

' Once more thanking you, believe me, always affectionately
yours,

' H. E. M.'

W. G. Ward was in correspondence with Mgr. Talbot, and
both in writing to him and in a letter published in the Weekly
Register expressed the criticism on the address to which I
have already referred. Mgr, Talbot wrote something of a
scolding to Manning, of whose firmness he on his side appeared
to have some doubts :

'Vatican: 25th April, 1867.

' My dear Archbishop, — I cannot help writing to you
again about the address of the English laity. Although I
am the first to condemn the correspondent of the Weekly
Register for touching on such a delicate matter, I look upon the
address of the English laity as the most offensive production
that has appeared in England since the times of Dr. Milner,
and if a check be not placed on the laity of England they
will be the rulers of the Catholic Church in England instead
of the Holy See and the Episcopate.

' It is perfectly true that a cloud has been hanging over
Dr. Newman in Rome ever since the Bishop of Newport
delated him to Rome for heresy in his article in the
Rambler on consulting the laity on matters of faith. None
of his writings since have removed that cloud. 1*2 very one of
them has created a controversy, and the spirit of them has
never been approved in Rome. Now that a set of laj'men
with Mr. Monsell at their head should have the audacity to
say that a blow that touches Dr. Newman is a wound inflicted
on the Catholic Church in England, is an insult offered to
the Holy See, to Your Grace and all who have opposed his
Oxford scheme, in consequence of his having quietly en-
couraged young men going to the University, by means of

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1S67) 147

his school, and by preparing two men, a fact which he does
not deny.

' But I think that even his going to Oxford, which will
induce many of the young Catholic nobility and aristocracy
to follow, is of minor importance to the attitude assumed by
the Stafford Club and the laity of England.

' They are beginning to show the cloven foot, which I
have seen the existence of for a long time. They are only
putting into practice the doctrine taught by Dr. Newman
in his article in the Rambler. They wish to govern the
Church in England by public opinion, and Mr. Monsell is the
most dangerous man amongst them.

' What is the province of the laity .'' To hunt, to shoot,
to entertain. These matters they understand, but to meddle
with ecclesiastical matters they have no right at all, and
this affair of Newman is a matter purely ecclesiastical.

' There is, however, one layman an exception to all rule,
because he is really a theologian. I mean Dr. Ward. His
letter is admirable, and he has attacked the address of the
laity in its most vulnerable point.

' I was much pained to see the name of Lord Petre
amongst those who subscribed their names. No doubt he did
not fully see the bearings of the address, because I am told
that he has the highest regard for ecclesiastical authority.

* Dr. Newman is the most dangerous man in England,
and you will see that he will make use of the laity
against your Grace. You must not be afraid of him. It will
require much prudence, but you must be firm, as the Holy
Father still places his confidence in you ; but if you yield
and do not fight the battle of the Holy See against the
detestable spirit growing up in England, he will begin to
regret Cardinal Wiseman, who knew how to keep the laity
in order. I tell you all this in confidence, because I already
begin to hear some whisperings which might become serious.
I am your friend and defend you every day, but you know
[Cardinal Barnabo] as well as I do, and how ready he is to
throw the blame of everything on others. . . .

' Dr. Ullathorne has been the cause of the whole mischief
If he had only obeyed the letter of Propaganda and com-
municated to Dr. Newman the inhibition placed to his going
to Oxford, he could not have sent forth a circular saying that
the whole Oxford project had the approbation of the Holy
See.

' Of course your suffragans are frightened by the address
of the laity. You will find yourself much in the position

148 TJFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

of Dr. Milner. I hope the clergy will not adopt the Rev.
Mr. Waterworth's suggestion of getting up an address to
Dr. Newman. That would make matters worse. Adieu. —
Believe me affectionately yours,

'Geo. Talbot.'
Archbishop Manning thus replied :

' 8 York Place : 3rd May 1867.

* My dear Talbot, — I have not been influenced by fear or
by neutrality, but by the following motives. I believe —

' I. That my first duty and work is to restore unity and
concord among the bishops ; and that this is vital, and above
all other things necessary.

' 2. That to get the bishops to act unanimously, as above
stated, is a double gain.

' 3. That the only way to counteract the unsound opinions
now rising among us is to keep the English bishops perfectly
united.

'4. That it would be fatal if the Stafford Club laymen
could divide us, and get an Episcopal leader.

' 5. That towards Dr. Newman my strongest course is to
act in perfect union with the bishops, so that what I do,
they do.

' 6. That to this end the greatest prudence and circum-
spection is necessary. A word or act of mine towards
Dr. Newman might divide the bishops and throw some on
his side.

' 7. That the chief aim of the Anglicans has been to set
Dr. Newman and myself in conflict. For five years papers,
reviews, pamphlets without number, have endeavoured to
do so,

* 8, That a conflict between him and me would be as great
a scandal to the Church in England, and as great a victory
to the Anglicans, as could be.

' For all these reasons I am glad that Cardinal B" lays on
me the responsibility of the permission given to Dr. Newman
to go to Oxford, and says that I did it " to serve an old
friend." This has given me untold strength here at this
time.

' I would ask you to make the substance of this letter
known where alone I feel anxious to be understood. I have
acted upon the above line with the clearest and most evident
reasons. And I believe you will see when we meet that I
should have acted unwisely in any other way. We shall
have a trying time, but if the bishops are ;/////dY/ nothing can
hurt us.

OXFORD AGAIN (1866-1867) 149

' Dr. Ullathorne has printed a statement of the Oxford
affair, and sent a copy to Dr. Neve' for Propaganda. Mind
you see it. It is fatal to Dr. Ullathorne's prudence, and to
Dr. Newman's going to Oxford.

' Fr. Ryder of the Edgbaston Oratory has published an
attack on Ward's book on Encyclicals. Dr. Newman sent it to
Ward with a letter adopting it, and saying that he was glad
to leave behind him young men to maintain these principles.

' This is opportune, but very sad. — Always affectionately
yours,

' H. E. M.'

These letters reveal a state of feeling among active and
influential counsellors of the Holy See in England, which
made Newman's determination to take active steps to defend
himself in Rome most necessary.

Newman forthwith drew up and sent to Ambrose St. John
the following ineinora7idnm expressing his precise views on
the Oxford question, in order to make misrepresentation
impossible :

' I say in the first place that no one in authority has ever
up to this time asked my opinion on the subject, and there-
fore I never have had formally to make up my mind on it.

' Next, I have ever held, said, and written, that the normal
and legitimate proceeding is to send youths to a Catholic
University, that their religion, science, and literature may go
together.

' I have thought there were positive dangers to faith and
morals in going to Oxford.

' But I have thought there were less and fewer dangers,
in an Oxford residence, to faith and morals, than there are
at Woolwich, where the standard of moral and social duty is
necessarily unchristian, as being simply secular, than there
are at Sandhurst, or in London — and especially for this
reason, that there is some really religious and moral super-
intendence at Oxford, and none at Woolwich or in London.

'That the question then lies in a choice of difficulties, a
Catholic University being impossible.

' And that necessity has no laws.

' That, as to the question whether Catholic youths should
go to Protestant Colleges at Oxford, or that a Catholic
College should be established, abstractedly a Catholic College

' The Rector of Ihe English College in Rome.

■n

^

150 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

would be the better plan, for in that case they would re-
ceive unmixed (Catholic) not mixed education, — but I have
thought greater difficulties would in practice attend the
establishment of a Catholic College.

' That, under the circumstances, what I thought best was
to leave things as they had been heretofore ; that is, not to
forbid Catholic youths going to Oxford, but to protect them
by the presence of a strong Catholic Mission, such as a com-
munity of priests would secure.

' That I had ever been strong against a prohibition, as
putting too great a temptation to disobey ecclesiastical
authority in the way of the laity.

' But that this did not mean that I had ever positively
advocated, or now advocate, Catholic youths going to
Oxford, but that I wished the m.atter decided in each case, as
it came, on its own merits ; and I certainly thought that a
residence in Oxford would be a great advantage to certain
youths, if you could pick them.

' I added that, as to myself, I have ever stated and
avowed to our Bishop: (i) that my going would draw
Catholics there, (2) if there were not Catholics there, I
should be at much disadvantage as seeming to go there
directly to convert Protestants. Accordingly (3) I had ever
been unwilling to go there.'

Armed with this document. Fathers St. John and Bittle-
ston arrived in Rome at the end of April as Newman's am-
bassadors. Their mission and its results shall be described
in another chapter.

No IE. — Readers who desire to go further into the details of the ecclesiastical
situation at this time will find much correspondence to interest them at pp. 313
stq. of the second volume of PurccU's Lifr. of Cardinal Mantnitg.

CHAPTER XXV

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867)

The true sting of the ' secret instruction ' lay in the inter-
pretation which was being put on it by many, and not dis-
claimed in authoritative quarters — that Newman's residence
in Oxford was feared in Rome because of the influence it
would give him in disseminating his theological views.
And these views were represented as more or less akin to
the worldly Catholicism, the semi-Catholicism (as it was
regarded) of the now extinct Home and Foreign Review.
This impression as to his ' minimistic ' theology — to use the
slang phrase of the day— was being confirmed by W. G.
Ward's articles in the Dublin Review, in which he insisted on
his own analysis of the extent of Papal Infallibility as the
only orthodox one. These articles were republished in 1866
in a volume entitled ' The Authority of Doctrinal Decisions.'
With this volume Newman was known not to agree.
He thought it unhistorical and untheological. Yet in the
temper of those times there was a disposition to regard the
theory which ascribed most power to the Pope, as indicat-
ing the most whole-hearted Catholic orthodoxy. ' Manning
gave his support to the Dublin theory ; more especially to its
maintenance of the infallible certainty of the teaching of the
' Syllabus,' and consequently of the necessity of the Temporal
Power of the Papacy, on which that document insisted.
Mr. Martin's letter in the Weekly Register intimated (as we
have seen) that suspicion of Newman's orthodoxy was at
the root of the objection entertained at Rome to his residence
in Oxford. Newman from the first saw that this would at
least be generally supposed, and realised the evil conse-
quences of such a supposition. If he were under a cloud, if his

' See Newman's words cited in Vol. I., p. 572.

153 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

views were supposed to be seriously suspect, liow could he
work with any good effect as the champion of the Church in
Oxford ? Ever cautious in action, he did not finally decide to
postpone any further step in the Oxford question, without
first consulting Hope-Scott. His feelings are presented in
two letters to Hope-Scott. The first was written on the
very day on which he learnt the existence of the 'secret
instruction ' :

'April 6th, 1867.

' The real difficulty is this — what is the worth of my voice
at Oxford if I am under a cloud ? Already the Protestant
periodicals have said that I am not a sound Catholic. I am
told so every day. If my opponents can succeed in getting
the Pope to grant an inquiry, and keep it hanging over my
head for two years, it will be enough, I am for two years
unauthoritative and worthless. At the end of two years I
may be past work, or anyhow I go to my work with a suspicion
on me which an acquittal will not wipe off. If then I take
the Oxford Mission in the second week after Easter, I am
simply putting my foot into it, and entangling myself with a
responsibility and a controversy without any corresponding
advantage. I have several weeks yet before I need determine
— and various things may happen before then — but I must
be prepared with my decision by May 5th, and there is not
too much time to have a view on the matter.'

'April nth, 1867.

' I assure you the letter in the Weekly Register was
no laughing matter — the whole Catholic public has been
moved. Some friends in London are moving to get up an
address to me. The Paper is to make a formal apologj'' next
Saturday. It has been a most happy letting the cat out
of the bag. If you were in the controversy, you would see
that the one answer flung in my teeth is that Manning is
of one religion and I of another. If such a letter as that in
the Weekly Register was allowed to pass, I should be in a
very false position at Oxford. The Bishop at first thought
the secret opposition so serious that he wanted me last
Christmas to postpone any measures at Oxford for six
months, and it was mainly your advice to begin immediately
which made me move sooner.

'Then again you don't understand the doctrinal difficulty.
There is a great attempt by W. G. Ward, Dr. Murray of
Maynooth, and Father Schrader, the Jesuit of Rome and
Vienna, to bring in a new theory of Papal Infallibility, which

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 153

would make it a mortal sin, to be visited by damnation, not
to hold the Temporal Power necessary to the Papacy. No
one answers them and multitudes are being carried away, —
the Pope, I should fear, gives ear to them, and the con-
sequence is there is a very extreme prejudice in the highest
quarters at Rome against such as me. I cannot take Oxford
unless I am allowed full liberty to be there or here, and unless
I have an assurance that there are no secret instructions
anywhere. Of course I write all this in order to get your
opinion, — but I don't think you have a view of the facts.'

Hope-Scott was now more alive to the situation, and
counselled at all events a suspension of operations as to the
Oxford Oratory. The evil must be dealt with at its source.
Newman informed him that Ambrose St. John and Bittleston
were on their way to Rome. Hope-Scott was sanguine that
Rome would be thoroughly satisfied with their explanations,
and could even be got to approve of Newman's being sent to
Oxford for the purpose of working there against the infidelity
of the day. To any attempt to secure such approval, Newman,
however, was opposed ; the idea would not appeal to Rome,
he thought, and anyhow he did not wish himself to ask to be
sent to Oxford on any ground. But that his loyalty and
orthodoxy should be fully vindicated in Rome he was most
anxious, and the Oxford plan itself would be a matter for
further consideration when the issue of St. John's mission
on this head was known. Newman was indignant that his
loyalty to the Holy See should be impeached by anyone.
He welcomed Father Ignatius Ryder's forthcoming pamphlet
in reply to W. G. Ward, now on the eve of publication, as
a protest, backed by most weighty theological authority,
against making loyalty synonymous with extreme theories
which the most careful students of history and theology
could not accept. Moreover, while the Pope and his
entourage — what Newman called the political party in
Rome — had given some encouragement to Ward, the best
Roman theologians were known to have rejected many
of his statements. Anyhow, Newman seems to have been
anxious that his double protest — in England through Ryder,
in Rome through Fr. Ambrose St. John — should come
without further delay. His two letters of instruction to

154 TJFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Ambrose St. John (to which there is reference in their
correspondence) I have not found ; but their purport is
apparent from St. John's own letters. That feeling ran
high, and very high, is plain. To omit all the expressions
of strong feeling would be to take the life and reality out
of the correspondence. I therefore give it without material
abridgment.

The first of Newman's letters which is extant is the
following :

To Father A. St. John.

'The Oratory, Birmingham : April 28th, 1S67.

' My dear Ambrose, — We had the letter and telegram
from Marseilles. I wrote to you on Tuesday a letter to the
Collegio Inglese, which must have travelled in the same boat
as you. You will get it with the one I sent about a week
ago.

' Also, I wish you to get me a Cameo, from lOi". to i/., if
possible, say a broocJi for a present to one of the K.'s who is
going to be married. I would rather have small and good
than large.

' Also, I think it would be a considerable saving if you got
a number of really good medals blessed by the Pope, as prizes
for the boys instead of books. No one reads a prize book
lest he should spoil it. Also if you could get some really
good religious prints, to be blessed by the Pope, for the same
purpose. I should say the subjects of medals and pictures
should be St. Peter and St. Paul ; St. Philip ; Our Lady ;
Crucifixion ; Madonna & Child, &c., &c. Also, I think you
might get a number of Pagan things cheaper and more
lasting than books — such as wolf-articles in giallo or rosso
antiquo, &c. But in mentioning the idea I have said enough.

' I suppose Ignatius's pamphlet will be out to-morrow.
Besides Bellasis saying it will make a row, Stanislas writes
saying he hopes it will be delayed till after your return, and
Pope wishes delay. But I think it had better come out — what
harm can it do ? I shall by it be making capital out of the
signatures to the address. Of course you may have it thrown
in your teeth, that an awful pamphlet has come out from
the Birmingham Oratory with a great flourish of lies — but
we don't want to get anything, and my monkey is up. If
there is anything [unsound] in it, which I do not think there
is, wc must withdraw it. As to clamour and slander, who-
ever opposes the three Tailors of Tooley Street, [Manning,

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 155

Ward, and Vaughan] must incur a great deal, must suffer, —
but it is worth the suffering if we effectually oppose them. . .

' As to Hope-Scott's notion of your trying to get me to
Oxford to oppose infidelity, it won't hold; (i) because if I
ask to go to Oxford for any purpose, I take up a new position
--I never have asked to go there, the Bishop has asked me ;
nor have I any dealings with Propaganda, but the Bishop
with it. (2) As if they cared a jot to keep Protestant
Oxford from becoming infidel ! As if they did not think
Protestantism and Infidelity synonymous ! '

To THE Same.

' May 3rd, 1867.

' Your welcome letter, notifying your arrival at Rome, got
here on Wednesday at noon.

' I have just had a letter from Father Perrone, so very
kind that you must call on him and thank him. He says
he always defends me. Also Father Cardella said Mass for
me on St. Leo's day. Thank him too.

' Ignatius's Pamphlet is just out, but we do not hear
anything about it yet.

' If it ever comes to this, that you can venture to speak to
Barnabo on the secret instruction, you must say that people
gave money to the Church on the express condition^ as the
main point, that I should reside a great deal in Oxford.
Hence his precious instruction made me unwittingly collect
money on false pretences. Far as it was from the intentions
of the Most Eminent Prince, he co-operated in a fraud.
Distil this " blande suaviterque " into his ears.

' A. B, has been here. He says I should have had an
address from the clergy, but Manning and Patterson
stopped it on the plea that it would be thought at Rome
to be dictating. He speaks of the clique having had two
blows, — (i) my leave to found an Oxford Oratory; (2) Mr,
Martin's letter. Heavy blows both. C. D. reeling under
the first, went to Oakeley and blew up Propaganda. Ward
writes to Dr. Ives that what they have to oppose in England,
as their great mischief, is F'ather Newman. He has written
to Monsell that there are " vital " differences between us. Is
not this the Evangelical " vital religion " all over ? and is he
not dividing Catholics into nominal Christians and vital
Christians as much as an Evangelical could do in the
Church of England ? A. B. says that Vaughan is sent by
Ward to Rome,— he has now got back. . . . Ward says that
he loves me so, that he should like to pass an eternity with

156 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

me, but that whenever he sees Manning he makes him creep
— (I have not his exact words; — yet that Manning has the
truth and I have not. A. B. thinks that Manning will throw
Ward over — that is, next time.

' Ward has answered my present of Ignatius' pamphlet.
He complains of its personalities — of its referring to the
" Ideal." [His letter] is very mild and kind, and has melted
Ignatius somewhat — but it says that, in spite of his personal
liking for me, we must regard each other in a public point
of view with " the greatest aversion " ; and we belong to
" different religions " ! Finally he invokes an ecclesiastical
decision. No decision can make us " of different religions."
Is it not vital Christianity all over ? ' ^

How Father St. John and Father Bittleston prospered
with their task in Rome is best shown in their own letters.
Their reception was cordial on all hands. The Holy Father
had been apprised of their mission and its object, and had
passed his all-powerful word that the greatest kindness must
be shown in all that regarded Newman. The letters make it
clear that the atmosphere in Rome was far more favourable

' Newman adds the following postscriplum :

* May 4. The Bishop has just sent me the opening words of the Letter of the
Episcopal Meeting to Propaganda. " The Bishops have strenuously laboured to
give effect to the principles which they themselves have inculcated as to the
perils of mixed education — and although some twelve youths from Ireland, the
Colonies, or England, have entered the University from our Colleges, yet of the
whole, one only of the number had been educated in the Oratory School of
Birmingham, — and it is to be trusted that all of them have remained firm and
strong in their faith. It is not, however, the less certain that the arguments
which the late eminent Archbishop and the Bishops laid before Propaganda,
Dec. 13th, 1864, continue in all their strength, and have received new force
from subsequent experience." Observe (i) it almost seems, judging from this
extract, as if the Bishops were not prohibiting Oxford, — but perhaps the
" Declarations" from Rome will be published forbidding. (2) they are too fair
to us in saying that only one Oxford man has been educated by us — for R. Ward
has been. (3) I shall answer the Bishop saying that I suppose now Propaganda
will not take an exceptional course with us — but will apply the " directe vel
indirecte " to all the Colleges or none. (4) Dean brings a report that the Jesuits
are to have a sort of "Collegium Romanum " in London. This may be
intended to justify a prohibition.

' May 5th. I have answered the Bishop thus : "I trust Cardinal Bamabo
will no longer think it necessary to make my case an exceptional one, and to
impose on me personally an obligation which he has imposed on no other priest
in England, viz. to be careful to have nothing to do directly or indirectly with
preparing youths for Oxford. To avoid indirectly preparing them for Oxford
I mubt either shut up the School or teach the boys Latin and Greek badly."'

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 157

to Newman than that in the extremist circles in England.
Indeed, the Roman officials were evidently disposed to
regard the Englishmen on both sides as quarrelsome
' cranks ' who made much ado about nothing. All that was
insisted on was that the Roman decrees against mixed edu-
cation should be attended to, and no encouragement given
to Catholics to go to Oxford. These decrees formed part
of a large policy on which Rome had decided for English-
speaking Catholics at the time of the foundation of the
Queen's Colleges in Ireland. Indeed, this policy had been
the raison d'etre of the Catholic University at Dublin.
It was being pursued throughout Christendom (as we have
already seen) in primary and secondary education alike. Its
object was to make sure of a thoroughly Catholic education
for all the faithful in a day of indifferentism. The Church
was becoming once more, as in Apostolic times, only a ' little
flock,' and Catholics must make up in whole-hearted zeal and
esprit de corps for what they lacked in numbers. Cardinal
Barnabo appeared ready to take the most favourable view
of all Newman's actions past and present, provided that
the opposition of the Holy See to mixed education was
respected ; and he considerably mollified St. John by his
friendly language. Newman, however, declined to share in
any such gentler sentiments. Monsignor Talbot, after some
meetings in which he betrayed embarrassment, became in the
end wholly friendly. William Palmer, brother of Roundell
Palmer (afterwards Lord Selborne), a convert and a friend of
Newman, was in Rome, and helped the Oratory Fathers in
various ways.

The only substantial charge against Newman was that
he had declined to explain or retract his Rambler article on
' Consulting the Faithful on matters of Doctrine,' which had
' given pain ' to the Pope. The article had been regarded as
maintaining that the ' teaching Church ' had in the fifth
century in some way failed in performing its functions : and
such a contention was unorthodox. Against the above charge
Newman's defence was quite conclusive : he had formally
written to Cardinal Wiseman, who was in Rome when the
charge was made, offering to explain the passages objected
to if the accusation was formulated, and not left as a vague

158 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

charge of ' error ' without specification as to what orthodox
doctrines the article had impugned. But Manning had after-
wards given him a semi-official notification that no further
explanation was required. It looked, on the other hand, as
if the original objection to the article had been an instance
of what tried Newman so much, making the vague impression
produced by it on the casual reader — whose knowledge of
theology, or even of English, might be imperfect — the test
of its orthodoxy. These were the ways of diplomats, not of
theologians. ' It created a bad impression ' was the phrase cur-
rent at Rome. Newman was supposed to have preferred a
serious charge against the Ecclesia Docens ; and to do so argued
at least a want of loyalty to the Holy See. Serious historical
studies could not be carried on if the accuracy of their con-
clusions was measured by such a test. Any treatment of
history which made for the power of the Popes, however
unscientific or false to fact it might be, created in this sense
a ' good impression ' ; all, however undeniably true, which
showed that Popes or Bishops had made mistakes, made a
'bad impression.' In such an atmosphere the most imme-
diately effective retort to his accusers was the one chosen by
Ambrose St. John, that such a highly approved historian as
Baronius had recognised as historical facts certain deficien-
cies in the action of the members of the Teaching Church
in the past. If the busy practical officials were perhaps
no more familiar with Baronius than with Newman, such
long-acknowledged authority as that of the great Roman
Oratorian and Cardinal sufficed as a guarantee of orthodoxy.

The following letters narrate the proceedings of the
Fathers in Rome from the first interview with Cardinal
Barnabo on April 30, to the audience with the Holy Father
on May 4 :

Father Henry Bittleston to Dr. Newman.

' Motel Minciva, Rome : April 30th, 1867.

' My dear Father, — I don't know how much Ambrose has
told you of his talks with Neve, Bishop Brown, and Palmer,
but having learnt that Cardinal Barnabo would be at Pro-
paganda this morning at ten o'clock, thither he proceeded,
carrying a book for Monsignor Capalti from the Nunziatura
at Paris, and, before finding the Secretary, he stumbled (I am

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 159

copying from Ambrose's journal) on the Cardinal himself who
said, laughing : " Oh ! so you are come from Newman : e cosi,
cost ideato" (I could not make out his meaning) "we will
talk about it this evening." " Shall we come this morning ? "
" No ! " (The Cardinal was going to cojtgresso.) " Come to-
night at the Ave Maria." He seemed in good temper
and laughed, and intended evidently to be very courteous.
Ambrose then found Monsignor Capalti, introduced the
subject of his journey to Rome by saying that he had come
to explain Father Newman's real sentiments in regard to the
Oxford question, and also to answer any questions that might
be put to him concerning his obedience to the Holy See, &c.,
all of which he understood had been called in question,--that
he had come for no favour, but simply to explain. " Well,"
he said, talking very fast the whole time and wishing to throw
the onus of the whole matter on somebody else's shoulders,
" have you seen the Cardinal ? " " No ! I am to see him to-
night, but I thought it would be well to see you, Monsignor,
and to explain matters to you." " Well then," he said,
civilly enough, but thinking me a great bore, " Father
Newman has not been attacked at all in his own person {nella
sua propria persona)" and this he repeated several times, for
he was very well up with the line of argument, and he knew
the whole state of things although he pretended it was not
his business. " No," he said, " it is only for the sake of
Catholic parents. The Holy See has had but one idea {unica
idea) throughout, to discourage parents from sending their
sons to Oxford — this it will never depart from. It wishes for
a better Mission at Oxford for the sake of the Catholics there,
but it does not wish to have Father Newman residing there ;
for this would be to give too much importance to Oxford.
Let them have there a good priest to make their confessions
to, but not a man like Newman — that would be to encourage
them." Again and again he repeated this. He said : " the
Bishop of Birmingham ^ pover' uoino ' had made some equivoco
about the terms of the concession of the Oratory foundation,
— but that the Holy See had one view, and he hoped Father
Newman would fall in with it, and act in the spirit of it, viz.
not to allow himself to be persuaded to go and fix his
residence there, — that would be giving so decided an en-
couragement that it could not be done." Then I tried to get
in a word. " Father Newman, I can assure you, has always
acted in the spirit of obedience to the Holy See in this matter.
He himself does not, and has not wished to go to Oxford.
I can show you exactly what his opinion is on the subject,
for he has written it down for me, and I will read it to you if

i6o LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

you like." "Well, thank you, no — thank you — shall I keep
it ? " " No," I said, " I would prefer letting the Cardinal
Prefect to-night know Father Newman's real sentiments, but
I can assure you he has not himself wished to go to Oxford,
nor does he now wish it." " Then we arc all agreed," said he,
" and the whole thing can be settled in two words — good-bye
— there is a Patriarch waiting for me — basta — you will see
the Cardinal to-night."

' So far the journal. Ambrose said he tried, after saj-ing
you had no wish to go to Oxford, to put in a word for the
other view, and what your friends wished, and the great work
for Protestants, &c., and the scandal of stopping it, &c., &c.,
but he would not hear a word of it. . . .

' tLver yours affectionately in St. Philip,

Hknky Bittleston.'

Further particulars of the conversation are given in a letter
written on the following day by Ambrose St. John himself:

' One very good thing is that Cardinal Barnabo has made
a clean breast of all that can really be said here against you.
He was very patient, spoke at great length, and gave me
time to say all I could think of I suppose I was an hour
and a half with him. As soon as he read your letter he
said : " Ah ! ' vanissimae calumniae,' just so " ; I said I was
ready to explain, on your part, anything he had to say.
Then he began : " Father Newman has good reason to com-
plain of the treatment, but it is not my doing. He ought to
have been told at once that the Sacred Congregation did not
wish him to go himself to Oxford. The Bishop has made a
great mistake ; he ought to have told him our instructions
and not have allowed him to compromise himself with the
laity by collecting subscriptions when he was left in the dark
as to conditions. The Holy See has had but one view all
along. Since the question of the mixed colleges was raised
in Ireland, the Holy Sec would never sanction mixed educa-
tion ; nor can it do so now indirectly by permitting so im-
portant a man as Newman to go to Oxford." He did not
use the word " residence " throughout. . . . Father Newman
had very properly suppressed his circular and sold his
ground, and there the matter ought to have ended ; but then
he bought other ground and the Bishop gave him the Mission
and this brought up the matter again ; then the Holy See
though maintaining always its one view had granted a con-
ditional leave for the Oratory just that the way might be
tried whether it was possible to do some good to O.xford

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 161

without undoing all that had been consistently done against
mixed education. So, though he was against it, a majority
carried the vote for leave on condition that Father Newman
did not go to live there — (so I understood him to say). In
all this there had been nothing against Father Newman. I
have always upheld him, he said. ... It was the Pope
himself who had insisted on the special condition being
put in against Newman going to live at Oxford, as his going
to Oxford would give too much weight to the position of
Catholics there, and inevitably encourage Catholic students
to go. This the Holy Father could not make himself a
party to. In all this there was nothing personal to you.
Then he went on confidentially to say in what he did think
you wrong. You stuck to your own way. He gave as his
authority for this the late Cardinal, and he brought up the
matter of the London Oratory. He said you had then stood
on your rights. You had said to him (Barnabo) : " lo sono
Fondatore." Here I interrupted, though he tried to go on.
Your Eminence must allow me to speak. / was the speaker
on that occasion, and I remember no such words, certainly
not in the sense of implying that you had any rights over
their house ; you had come to Rome solely to defend your
own house ; we were told what Rome did for them would
bind us. " Ah, well," he said, " that is over now. Faber is
dead ; then there was Manning's being made Archbishop,
that had hurt you." " You really don't know the Father at
all," I said, "if you think so." "Well," he said, "I hear
things said. At Manning's consecration Father Newman
just came there, but he wouldn't come to the breakfast and
went away. This was very much felt by all present. This
was a want of conformity to the Pope's mind." There was
however one more important matter on which you had
shown yourself very unyielding. It was on the matter of
the Rambler, of which you were editor. Some passages in
it had displeased the Pope greatly, and he had insisted on
their being explained. He had written to Dr. Ullathorne
and he had answered that he had called on you and found
you ill in bed ; that he could not get more out of you than
that you would give up the Rambler, which you had imme-
diately done, giving it into the hands of " that Birbonaccio
Acton, who, by the bye, is here ! " but though you were told
to write an explanation you had not done so. Then I said :
This I was sure was untrue, whoever said it. You had to
my certain knowledge, for I had been always at your side,
never been asked authoritatively to explain any special
VOL. II. M

i62 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

passage, that you had expressed your readiness if required to
withdraw or explain anything that might be objected to ;
but I was sure you could give his Eminence proofs of what
you had done if you were asked ; and that I would write to
you about it. I said I was sure on my conscience these
things would never be said of you by anyone who knew you.
Then he spoke again very angrily of the Bishop, saying
that this was another instance of his misinstructing them ;
and that we would see him in Rome in June and talk to
him on the subject. He seemed pleased by what I said on
the subject. I spoke warmly, and said it was a pity the
Bishop had been afraid to speak out to you, that you were
not to be feared in such a matter, &c. He then said :
" Now, pray tell Father Newman that in all this matter
about Oxford he has not lost the smallest fraction of the
estimation in which he is held in Rome." I thanked him
warmly for this, for he spoke with much feeling. Then
I said : " Your Eminence's frankness and kindness in what
you have just said, makes me desire that you should know
his real sentiments on the Oxford matter. He has never
been urgent for it, but has always pointed out the difficulties
to parents. It is true he thinks, and others think more than
himself, that Oxford would be a very great field for meeting
the great difficulties of the day ; you cannot imagine, I said,
how much his opinion is valued in England In Oxford all
could come to hear him. It presents such a field." Then I
told him the state of parties in Oxford ; how much you were
valued and the conversions that might be expected. "Ah,"
he said, " Father Newman must write and work in Birming-
ham. If he cannot gain a hundredfold, he must be content
to gain thirty fold, — he may do a great deal yet." Then
I spoke of our school, said it had been founded expressly to
feed the Catholic University in Ireland. " Ah," he said, "we
ought to have a Catholic University in England." Upon this
I read in Italian the passage you sent me from your letter
of your opinions concerning Oxford Education. That a
Catholic University was the true education, but necessity
had no laws. He said he quite agreed with that. I asked
" should I read him your whole sentiments." " Not now."
he said, " but if you wish prepare a memorial and it shall be
considered when we meet to speak together on the Bishops'
memorial." Then he spoke of scandal given by Catholics at
Oxford. Talbot had told him. Why didn't I go to Talbot ?
Didn't I know him ? Then I flared up : " How can I go to
him ; he has said most monstrous things about Father

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 163

Newman. He said he subscribed to Garibaldi." " Oh ! come,
not that," he said, " you had better go and see him and talic
with him. Well, you must see the Pope. Come to-morrow
and I will give you a letter to Pacca for an audience." So for
that we wait, and I do not know what more we have to do.
I have told Palmer and Neve, and they both think good has
been done. I wonder whether you will think so I have
done my be.st, dear Father. I wish it was in better hands.
Good-bye. All well, I will write again soon.

' Yours affectionately,

A. St. John.'

Father Ambrose St. John to Dr. Newman.

' Rome, Albergo della Minerva : May 2nd, 1867.

' Dearest Father, — Buona Festa on this your day to you.
1 said Mass for you in St. Philip's room at St. Girolamo this
morning. . . .

' I have been with Palmer all the morning, who, good
fellow, has been emploj'ed on the Bishop's notes which I
borrowed from Neve, making out a paper which I am to
send you and which he strongly advises me to leave with
Barnabo and bring home with me to show the Bishop. He
says it will never do in after times to let the Cardinal white-
wash you at the expense of the Bishop. Whatever faults the
Bishop may have committed, he has been your friend, and it
won't do to leave him in the lurch. . . . We have not yet
received our time for an audience with the Pope, but I
expect the audience this week. Talbot is entirely (so Neve
says) Manning's tool, and hears from him three times a week
everything great and small. He is not all powerful with the
Pope, and the Pope snubs him. The Pope declares he won't
have you dealt with, with anything but the greatest caritd,
and I believe really the Italian Prelates in authority, as
Cardinal Barnabo, Cardinal de Luca, and others, are not at
all to be counted with the English Manning faction. Dr.
Reisach also is said to be moved towards you. Nardi is
a humbug, — praises you and blames you according to his
company. Father Smith is your most powerful enemy, —
says everything you write is satirical, &c. He or Talbot
sent your Sermon - to the Index. The English "readers," as
they are called, examined it, and Father Modena, the chief,
declared there was nothing whatever in it that could be
objected to, upon which Talbot said : " I told you so," and

' The Sermon on the ' Pope and the Revolution,' preached in response to a
Pastoral by Bisl^op Ullathornc on the trials of Pius IX.

M

i64 UFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Smith cried out : " Well, but it is a satire on his own Bishop
from beginning to end," on which Palmer told the said
Smith : " Either Dr. Newman then must be an ass to satirize
his Bishop who has nothing to do with the Temporal Power,
or the man that says so is an ass. Now nobody says
Newman is an ass ; ergo, he who says Newman satirizes his
Bishop is an ass." Smith became more cautious on this.
He is a great big, mouthing, good-natured (so they say)
Irishman who blusters about, a popular lecturer in Theology
at Propaganda, and who sees a great many English whom
he takes to the Catacombs. This is what I gather from
Neve and Palmer.

' Palmer says that he has no doubt that, whilst the Pope
and Barnabo only want to carry out their unica guesttonc
how to prevent a system of mixed education gradually
getting a footing in England, the English party, of which
Ward is the brains, are determined to prevent your going to
Oxford on Theological grounds. Ward told Palmer himself
that he should oppose it with all his might, for it would give
you influence and enable you to propagate your views. The
two parties are quite distinct. Neve said he thought Father
Ryder's pamphlet would be hailed by Roman Theologians,
who are by no means Wardites. He likes the pamphlet
very much. I told him to keep it very quiet. Only fancy,
Talbot came to him and said, spluttering out as he does :
" So Neve they tell me you are a Newmanite," upon
which Neve gave him a good jobation. ... I think the
Italians think us all — Manning, Talbot, you, Ward, &c., —
a lot of queer, quarrelsome Inglesi, and just now the Pope
thinks his Sejanus (this is Palmer's profanity) has had his
own way too much. Well, we shall see. I told }'Ou
Barnabo said to me : " I am sure Newman is really * un sant'
uomo,' " — he listened with great interest to what I told him of
your influence in England. Well, I shall know more when I
have seen the Pope.

' Ever yours affectionately,

AiMBRO.SE St. John.'

' Father Perrone was most warm to me,' St. John writes
on May 3. 'I met him at the Sapienza where Monsignor
Nardi took me. He said he had written to you and he told
me he was your warm friend. " So tutto tutto, e ne parleremo."
He is a consultor of Propaganda and has a vote. I called
on Reisach and am to see him to-morrow. I am now going
to Talbot, who cut me this morning at the Collcgio liiglcsc.

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 165

However I shall go and call, for Barnabo told mc to do so.
The principal matter now is the article in the Rambler
years ago.'

Father H. Bittleston to Dr. Newman.

'May 3rd, 1867.

' We had caught sight of Talbot at St. Peter's one day ;
he was sitting down talking with A. B. and we got out
of his way. On Friday morning we were just standing
at Neve's door, on the point of going in, when Talbot came
by. We bowed and he bowed and passed on into Neve's
room and kept us waiting no end of time. In the afternoon
we called. He came up to us, shook hands as if wishing to
be friendly, said how time altered people, and there was some
little pleasantry about growing fat, as if to excuse himself, I
thought, for not having taken notice of Father Ambrose in
the morning at Neve's. Ambrose broke in by saying he
came by desire of Cardinal Barnabo, to give to Monsignor
Talbot any information he wished touching Father Newman's
conduct in the Oxford matter, &c. Then Talbot said he
would give a history of the whole affair — condemned Mannino-,
yet said there were some things against Newman. The Holy
See was always against youths going to Oxford. The Pope
proprio viotu wished everything to be done to dissuade
parents. About three years ago, there were two youths here
who wished to have an audience of the Holy Father, which
Talbot procured for them. The Holy Father asked them
what they were going to do ; when they said they were goino-
to Oxford, he jumped up and said vehemently : " I entirely
disapprove of it. . . . The Bishops of England, in obedi-
ence to the Holy See, admonished the clergy to dissuade
parents, &c., — still Father Newman went on at Edgbaston
preparing boys for Oxford — he referred to Towneley and
another, and besides he had seen a letter to a lady here from
one of the Professors, v/hich said that Newman made no
difficulty of boys going to Oxford and that it was his work
to prepare for it." . . . Ambrose said that our school was
commenced to feed the Catholic University of Dublin — that
there was no special preparation for Oxford — and that they
went from other schools as much as from ours. . . .

' He spoke of the Rambler. The article " On consulting
the faithful " had been delated by the Bishop of Newport, for
heresy. The passage he complained of was (he was quoting
from memory) " that for sixty years, the Ecclesia docens was in

r66 LIFP: of CARDINAT. NEWMAN

suspension, and the faith was preserved by consensus ^de/t'uvi."
Talbot said, speaking for himself, that " the passage, as it
stood, was no doubt heretical." Still, out of consideration
for Newman the Holy See would not condemn it, or call on
him for an explanation. He did not know exactly what had
been done, but he saw a letter of Father Newman to the
Bishop of Birmingham in which he said that he hoped at any
rate they would not send for him to Rome. So out of mercy
(and I think Talbot said he had himself pleaded for him) the
matter was dropped — only Newman knew from his Bishop
that they wanted an explanation or retractation of that
passage. Consequently he was under a cloud, and he felt it
himself; for for three years he had not opened his mouth until
he was called out by the " Apologia." Ambrose said warmly
and more than once, it was a very cruel kindness. The
Father felt keenly any impeachment of his faith — to touch
him in that point was to touch the apple of his eye— but it
would never hurt him in the least if he was told plainly if
any exception was taken to his expressions or statements,
and was always ready in obedience to competent authority
to retract or explain, &c., &c.'

Father Ambrose St. John to Dr. Newman.

' Rome : May 4th, 1867.

' Dearest Father, — Well, we have had our audience with
the Pope, and it has passed off very well and pleasantly
indeed. The Holy Father was not at all cold or angry,
quite the contrary. He began by saying with a very kind
smile : " Well, so you are come from Father Newman as my
dear sons. I do not in the least doubt Father Newman's
obedience, but now in this matter of mixed education my
mind is made up not to give it any encouragement, so I have
always said as to improving the Mission at Oxford, . . .
that I greatly desire, but I cannot encourage anything
which would lead Catholics to go there. Years ago when
a certain Signer Corbally (I think) wished to get my
approbation for the Cork Colleges, I refused, and I have
not changed." Then I began : " Holy Father, no one
more than Father Newman has spoken of the dangers
surrounding a young man going to Oxford, and he has
always himself been loth to go there, as he knew his
name would attract Catholic students there, but Father
Newman is a man of great charity to whom many persons
apply, fathers of families and others, and he was greatly
desirous to assist those poor souls who might find themselves

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 167

(by their fathers' doing, not theirs) at Oxford, because cir-
cumstances are such in England that there being no Catholic
University parents are driven into a great difficulty for the
education of their sons — there are dangers everywhere, and it
was to meet those dangers Father Newman at last consented
to go to take the mission." " Yes," he said, " the Bishops are
meeting about it, and then we shall decide." Then or before,
I forget which, he spoke of those who were not Catholics di
cuore, and I am sorry to say he mentioned Acton {che sta
adesso in Londra, — he meant Roma) as a type of those people.
He called him no names like Barnabo, but he coupled him
with those Signori di Torino, who were bringing in a
semi-Catholicism. I forget what name he used. He looked
upon mixed education as a part of that. Then he turned
the subject, asked how many we were. I answered, nine,
novices included. ..." How old are you ? you are Father
St. John are you not? I know you well, but you are grown
a Vecchione, lost your freshness, how old are you ? How long an
Oratorian ? Ah ! you must increase your numbers." . . . Then
I reminded him of Santa Croce and of his coming into our
refectory, &c. He evidently warmed towards us. Then I
spoke of Father A. B. and of the Government having given
a salary. "How much, 100/..?" "No, 50/." "Ah, that is
half." Then he made some joke about the other half which
I did not catch. Then we took our leave. As I knelt I
said : " Holy Father, you must give your Benediction to
Father Newman." " Oh yes," he said, " I give it with all
my heart, and to all of you "... Then we went.

' Something else I brought in. When I began to speak
about your having been so pained by the reports sent from
Rome, he answered you were not to mind, that it was enough
for you to know that he, the Pope, knew you were tutto
ubbediente. I am sure he avoided details purposely. He
never mentioned the Rambler ox Manning, or anyone except
Acton, and he evidently to my mind brought him in as
hoping you would not connect yourself with him. . . .

' I brought in here that we had a school founded expressly
to prepare young men for the Dublin University, but English-
men would not go to Dublin. "Ah," he said, "there is
always that racial antipatia, but we must think when the
Bishops have met what can be done." This is all I recollect
of the conversation.

' Talbot came up to us whilst waiting [before our audience]
with all appearance of a great desire to be friendly. He said :
" I could be of the greatest service to you if Father Newman

i68 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

would let mc. Would I come to him ? or better, let him
come to mc and have some long talks with him ? " I said I
was at his service for any information he might require as
consultor of Propaganda. I throughout spoke to him as in
his official capacity and I then in that capacity told him
how all the coldness he complained of your showing
authorities at Rome, and himself in particular, had arisen
from the unwarrantable things which had been said against
you ; that people would not understand that you had always
consistently held that there was to be in diibiis libertas.
Then he brought out, (this was after the audience when he
took us to his room) the Rambler with the Article and read
with some hesitation some passages. They seemed to him,
I think, not so strong as he expected. He has evidently
never thought of them himself I said. Father Newman was
writing history and showing, however strong the historical
difficulties were, the Faith was always in the Church. " I am
not however here," I said, " to defend Father Newman's
faith, that he must do himself; but I know he thought he
was only saying what Baronius had said." I said, " I am
confident Baronius has said as much." " Well, Baronius," he
admitted, (knowing nothing about it evidently) " has said some
very strong things doubtless." Altogether he looked puzzled,
and repeated his wish for a long talk. Then I said, rising to go :
" Monsignor, as long as you say Father Newman is a heretic,
there must be a line between us." Then he answered in a
deprecatory manner : " Oh, no, I never said that ; there is a
great difference between stating an heretical proposition and
being a heretic." " Well, but you said he was called upon to
retract and would not." " No, not that, I only heard the
other day what I said yesterday, that Father Newman had
been written to." Here I ought to have come down upon
and clenched him with : " Why did you say it then ?
Charity thinketh no evil," but I was softened by his manner
and let him make an engagement to come to my room.
When he comes I won't let him off, you may trust me, but
I am such a bad hand at clenching anything. I gain my
point and don't know how to use it. I hope you will not
think me unduly courteous. I have said stronger things to
him than I ever said to anyone, and he bears it all, quite
amicably. He said : " I am sure a great deal of good will
come out of this. I wish to be a good friend ; no one was more
so when we were at Rome together, but Father Newman has
seemed of late to speak as if one religion was for the
English and another for Catholics on the Continent." " How

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 169

can you say so ? " said Henry ; " the Father says he accepts
everything in the Raccolta." Then I said : " Were you,
Monsignor, when you became a CathoHc, ready to say all
that is said in Grignon de Montfort's book ? And for Popery
proper, who has spread it as much as I have with the
RaccoUat They are reprinting the 5th thousand and as
many have been sold in America." He seemed in all this
like a man whose eyes were beginning to open. Mind I am
not trusting him. I know he is under Manning's thumb. But,
if appearances go for anything, he is clumsily repenting.
Henry is sanguine we have done a great deal, not speaking
of Talbot but generallj^, with the Pope and Barnabo. I
don't know what I think. Everybody 1 have seen speaks of
you most kindly,

' Nine o'clock.

' Your letter just come. Well, I suppose you will, with
your monkey up, be angry with us for talking to Talbot at
all. But what can we do ? We must go on when we are in
a groove. It has all followed inevitably from going to
Barnabo. Pray for us hard that we may make no mistakes.

' Ever yours affectionately,

A. St. John.'

Newman, immediately on receipt of Ambrose St. John's
information that the Rambler article had been the main cause
of suspicion in Rome, forwarded to him the text of his letter
to Cardinal Wiseman written in i860, in which he had offered
to make all necessary explanations. He forwarded at the
same time the documents relating to the separation between
the two Oratories.

He was not dissatisfied with the course of events as
described by his friends, but remained, however, far from
sharing Father St. John's benevolent impressions as to
Cardinal Barnabo's supposed amiable dispositions in regard
to himself.

He wrote as follows to Father Ambrose :

' May 7th, 1867.

' I think you have managed very well. I am quite pre-
pared for the Roman people thinking my going to Oxford
will encourage mixed education, and the Manning-Ward
party thinking it will give me an open door for my theology.

' It seems to me that our going to Oxford is quite at an
end.

170 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' 1 send a copy of the letter which I sent to Cardinal
Wiseman, (at the Bishop's suggestion,) about the Rambler —
and which the Cardinal tiever anszvered. At the end of six
months Manning said to me in conversation : " By the bye,
that matter of the Rambler is settled " — or he wrote me a
line to that effect. I have nothing more to say about it.

' As to Father Faber, I cautiously abstained from
claiming any power over the London House when I went
to Rome with you. Barnabo introduced the subject of the
"Deputato" and puzzled us. If I find any notes of the
subject I will send them.'

' Wednesday night, May 8th, 1867.

' I am not a bit softened about Barnabo. He has not
at all explained the " blanda et suavis revocatio " which was
to be concealed from me //// I attempted to go to Oxford —
not at all. And to plead the Bishop's cause before him is an
indignity both in you and to the Bishop. But I don't see
how it can be helped, — I have allowed your defence of the
Bishop and do allow it. There is nothing else that can be
done, Neve and Palmer wishing it, but the judge is the
culprit.

' I doubt not Barnabo and Capalti call you and me
" pover' uomo " behind our backs, as they do the Bishop.
The idea of a Diocesan Bishop having toiled ... as he
has, to be so treated ! As for me, I am not a Bishop, and
I have not aimed at pleasing them except as a duty to God,
— at least for many years.

' As I am writing I recapitulate the Rambler affair.
I won't write a defence of the passage in the Rambler till
I know more clearly what I am accused of, either in Catholic
doctrine injured, or sentences and phrases used by me. But
you can write to Barnabo \}olQ. facts — viz. that the Bishop told
me that Barnabo was hurt at the passage, and (I suppose
getting it translated !) showed it the Pope and said to the
Bishop that the Pope too was hurt, but that neither you nor I
at the time could make out with what. That at the Bishop's
wish I wrote to Cardinal Wiseman, the7i in Rome, the letter I
sent you yesterday, to say that I would make any statement
they wished and explain my passage according to it, if they
would but tell me what they wanted — that both the Bishop
and I expected an answer to that letter, that no answer ever
came ; that, at the end of six months or so. Manning said or
wrote to me to say : " By the bye that matter of the Rambler
is all at an end," — which I thought, and think now, came
from Cardinal Wiseman and was meant to convey to me that

THE APPEAI. TO ROME (1867) 171

I need do no more in the matter. 1 think I have said all
this yesterday, but as I wrote quickly to save the post, lest I
should have omitted anything, I repeat it here. Don't offer
for me that I now will make explanations, unless they wish
to revive an old matter.' '

Dr. Ullathorne at Newman's request wrote an account of
the interview with Cardinal Barnabo at which the Cardinal
had communicated to him the original charges against the
article by Bishop Brown, and of the events which followed.
This document, which was also sent to St. John, ran as follows :

' Birmingham : May 9, 1867.

' Cardinal Barnabo asked me if I would do nothing to help
them through their difficulty. I asked what he wished me to
do ? He said, that he wished me to bring the matter home
to you. He produced the Bishop's [Dr. Brown's] letters,
addressed in English to the Secretary, Monsignor Badpini.
I asked for the passages. He exhibited them marked in
pencil ; and pointing to them with his pen he said " Ce
n'est pas Sanscrit," whereby I understood him to mean that

' The letter to Cardinal Wiseman which Newman enclosed ran as follows :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : January 19th, i860.

' My dear Lord Cardinal, — Our Bishop tells me that my name has been men-
tioned at Rome in connection with an article in the Rambler, which has by an
English Bishop been formally brought before Propaganda as containing unsound
doctrine. And our Bishop says that your Eminence has spoken so kindly about
me as to encourage me to write to you on the subject.

' I have not yet been asked from Propaganda whether I am the author of
the article, or otherwise responsible for it ; and, though I am ready to answer
the question when it is put to me I do not consider it a duty to volunteer the
information till your Eminence advises it.

' However, I am ready, with the question being asked of me, to explain the
article as if it were mine.

' I will request then of your Eminence's kindness three things : —

' I. The passages of the article on which the Cardinal Prefect of Propaganda
desires an explanation.

' 2. A copy of the translations in which his Eminence has read them.

' 3. The dogmatic propositions which they have been represented as infringing
or otherwise impairing.

' If your Eminence does this for me, I will engage, with the blessing of God,
in the course of a month from the receipt of the information :

' I. To accept and profess ex animo in their fulness and integrity the dogmatic
propositions implicated.

' 2. To explain the animus and argument of the writer of the article in strict
accordance with those propositions.

' 3. To show that the English text and context of the article itself are
absolutely consistent with them. . . .

' Kissing your sacred purple, I am, my dear Lord Cardinal,
• Your faithful & affectionate servant in Christ,

'John H. Newman

of the O ratory.'

172 IJFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

he perfectly understood the passages he was talking about ;
he added — " Le Pape est bcaucoup peind." I then at his
earnest request undertook to bring the matter before your
attention.

' Cardinal Wiseman was then at the English College at
Rome. I told him all that had passed, and spoke to him
gravely about the annoyances to which from time to time
you had been subjected. . . . Also [I went] into the question
about your treatment in the question of the Bible translation,
&c. At last the Cardinal burst into tears, and said " Tell
Newman I will do anything I can for him."

* So soon as I returned to Birmingham I wrote to you
and asked you if you could call on me, as I had a communi-
cation for you from Propaganda of some gravity. Father
St. John came in your stead, and told me you were ill in bed.
I communicated the case to him, and no sooner had you
heard it than you got out of bed and came up to me in
a cab. You proposed, as I had repeated to Father St. John
what Cardinal Wiseman had said of his readiness to serve
you, that you would write to him, and put your readiness to
comply with the requirements of i^ropaganda into his hands.
You asked if this course would satisfy me. I said, perfectly,
I then wrote to Cardinal Barnabo, and mentioned all that
had passed, describing how you had got out of your sick
bed and come up to me as soon as you heard the case and
commission with which 1 was charged.

' It is not correct that Cardinal Barnabo wrote to me.
But it is correct that I wrote to him and mentioned every
detail of your conduct above stated. And I concluded with
the statement that the case had now passed into the hands
of Cardinal Wiseman, who would represent you, I presumed,
with Propaganda after he had received your letter.'

That the Wiseman and Ullathorne letters and the
documents relating to the process concerning Father P^aber
and the London Oratory at once produced the best effect,
both in reassuring Newman's friends as to the strength of his
position and in propitiating the Roman authorities themselves,
is clear from the following letters :

Father Henry Bittleston to Dr. Newman.

' Rome : May nth, 1867.

' My dear Father,— Your telegram came last night at
bed time. This morning your letter enclosing important
documents.

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 173

' How very strange that neither Ambrose nor I should
have remembered your letter to the late Cardinal (Wiseman).
Palmer's document, for which Ambrose asked in the tele-
gram, he has ready in Italian, and he is now putting your letter
to Cardinal Wiseman, and also the "supplica" into Italian,
and intends taking them to Cardinal Barnabo this evening
at the Ave, the best time to see him. We must finish all our
business, and all our sight seeing very soon if we are to be
home for St. Philip's Day. . . . On the other hand Neve
(and I think Sir John Acton) have said that we ought not to
go without getting a decision — and Palmer thinks certainly it
would be much better not to go without entirely disabusing
the mind (or minds) of Propaganda, as to your orthodoxy,
and obtaining a statement of authority, to be published, clear-
ing you after they have passed the Essay assailed, either with
or without an explanation from you.

' Father Ambrose is also preparing a " supplica " embody-
ing your proposition about the school. . . .

' Ambrose says there is only just time to catch the post.

' Henry Bittleston.

' P.S.— We both think your letter to the Cardinal (Wise-
man) a complete success — in fact, a stunner.'

The Same to Dr. Newman.

'Rome: May 12th, 1867.

' Last night [Ambrose] took the three documents to
Cardinal Barnabo, who v;as very kind and friendly. Ambrose
is beginning to be almost won by him. He knows that
he has treated you badly in some things, but he thinks
he has been abused and that he is white in comparison of
some who ought to know better. Your letter to the late
Cardinal Wiseman quite thunderstruck him. " Why," he said,
" Cardinal Wiseman was in Propaganda, and we never heard
of this." He said it quite cleared you (morally, I suppose),
but for Cardinal Wiseman he seemed not to know what to
say ; all he could say was : " Well, he is dead now, — rajuies-
cat in pace." He said Ambrose must take it to the Pope.
He must go and show it to Monsignor Talbot and get
another audience. He seemed equally flabbergasted by
your statement on the Faber matter, and his having called
you " Deputato Apostolico," &c., but Ambrose must give you
a more full account of the interview. Ambrose left with his
Eminence the three papers (Palmer's statement, your letter to
Cardinal Wiseman, the document with the three propositions

174 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

about our school). This morning he went to Cardinal
de Luca, from whom I think he got nothing new, — and to
Monsignor Talbot who confessed to having seen the letter to
the late Cardinal Wiseman, and who was against taking it
to the Pope. Of course, he said, he would show it to His
Holiness if he wished, but he would not advise it. He said
that the Pope had forgotten all about it. This must do till
to-morrow. Ambrose is gone to dine with Monsignor Nardi,
a bore which he could not escape.'

It transpired, however, soon afterwards that the accusa-
tions against the Rambler article had been put in definite
tlieological form by no less eminent a person than Franzelin,
the great Jesuit theologian, afterwards a Cardinal, in a lecture
at the Roman College. Father Bittleston urged the im-
portance of a reply.

* It seems to us/ he wrote, 'that the only thing to do and
that very important, is for you to be preparing an explanation
of those passages in the Rambler article, and I think it might
be very useful to give an historical account of your connection
with the Rambler. We both think that our coming here
has been of the greatest use in bringing out this rankling
sore. I don't think you would have any difficulty in
explaining quite satisfactorily, and we really think there is
no unwillingness on the part of authorities to be satisfied.
Perhaps we can hear what Father Perrone thinks.'

Perrone, whom Father Ambrose consulted, held that
Newman should take occasion, in writing of something else,
to explain fully the passages to which exception had been
taken. He added that he was prepared to say to objectors
that he guaranteed the soundness of Newman's doctrine on
the matter in question. Newman adopted his suggestion,
and answered Franzelin's points one by one in his next
edition of the ' Arians.'

Father Cardella, so Father St. John now discovered, had
already replied to Franzelin, and strongly upheld the ortho-
doxy of the incriminated passages. Father Perrone spoke of
them with more reserve, as admitting a true sense and a false.
There was every disposition to be satisfied with any explana-
tion which Newman might give, and in fact no more was
heard of the matter, so far as I can learn, after this year.

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 175

Cardinal de Luca was especially warm in his language
concerning Newman. He urged that on the Oxford question
Newman must come to an understanding with Manning,
as the Holy See could not oppose the Archbishop and the
English episcopate. And now Monsignor Talbot came
forward and expressed an earnest wish to resume friendly
relations with Newman.

Father St. John to Dr. Newman.

' Albergo della Minerva, Rome: May i6th, 1867.
' . . . Here is a turn up. At half past seven o'clock last night
down comes Monsignor Talbot. He seemed very nervous.
Asked for a private interview, — would not have anybody with
me. He was hard upon two hours in my room, it is im-
possible to remember all that passed. But the upshot was
he was excessively sorry for the estrangement, — he desired
your friendship very much, — could be of the greatest service
to you in letting you know how things were felt at Rome.
He had shown his friendship in the Achilli matter. He had
kept the witnesses at his own expense, got the Pope to do
things he had never done before, &c. He had had nothing
to do with the Faber row. Nor with the Cardinal's treatment
of you in the first Oxford circular matter, nor with Dr.
Brown's accusation of your doctrine in the first instance.
" What had he done ? " When he found you were under
a cloud he had come out of his way to find you — he had
asked you to come and preach in the best intentions. You
had written the coldest letter in reply. Could nothing be
done to set matters right, &c. " Monsignor," I said, " you
have been frank with me, and I will be frank with you. You
said he had preached a sermon in favour of Garibaldi ; nay,
had even subscribed to Garibaldi (this last he emphatically
denied), and there were various other hostile sayings of yours
reported in England. Father Newman thought that it was
taking a liberty with him to say : ' Come and whitewash your-
self by preaching.' How did he know but he would (with
this cloud which, as you say, was hanging over his head) do
himself more harm than good? Besides (I said), you ought
not to have asked him. See (I said) what I find when
I come here now ; everybody lays the information of Martin's
letter to you." " It is a great shame," he said ; " I never saw
the man for a year, — I don't like him. I never saw him but
twice in my life." " Well, but," I said, " he got his informa-
tion from Propaganda, and knew what we in England did

176 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

not know." " Well, he (Talbot) knew nothing of this, but
people laid everything to him." " Well, then," I said, " you told
a person of high consideration in Rome you were sorry he was
a Newmanite." This was taking a line giving effect to what
he had said to me about Father Newman's doctrine. " Well,"
he said, " Dr. Brown had only just now again attacked your
doctrine in the old Rambler ; and do you know what Doctor
Brown says of Newman's ticatmcnt of him ? " " Well, no, but
of late he (Brown) has acted like a friend." Talbot then said
there were always parties ; he had only meant that he had not
agreed with you in your late way of going on ; I forget exactly
what he said. He spoke against Manning's sermons, said he
had said many queer things, it was not only you who had
stated one wrong proposition, &c. Then he asked in a very
friendly way if you would come to Rome next year and
preach, you would do so much good. Why, even Manning
had done a great deal. I said you had an illness which gave
me little hope of your being able to come. He said he had felt
so much your being treated so badly by Dr. Cullen about the
Bishopric. . . . Then he said, (now don't laugh, Father) : " Did
I think you would let yourself be made a Protonotarj'
Apostolic, — you would have nothing to do but wear purple
if you came to Rome ? " " Well," I said, " Father Newman
would accept whatever came from the Holy See with the
greatest respect, but I really cannot say what he would do
now." Then he asked me with hesitation to dine with him.
As you will see, I weakly accepted at first, and Henry
acquiesced. Then this morning we talked with Palmer, and
after he went I wrote the enclosed letter [declining to dine
with him]. Palmer wanted us to go under a protest. I
thought that a half measure. This is all. Oh ! I am so
tired of writin<T and jabbering. I hope I have made no
mistake.

On receiving this letter Dr. Newman wrote as follows to
Monsignor Talbot •

'St, Philip's Day, 1867 (May 26th).

'Dear Monsignor Talbot, — I have received with much
satisfaction the report which Father St. John has given me
of your conversations with him.

' I know )'ou have a good heart ; and I know you did me
good service in the Achilli matter, — and )'ou got me a relic
of St. Athanasius from Venice, which 1 account a great
treasure ; and for these reasons I have been the more
bewildered at your having of late years taken so strong
a part against me without (I may say) any real ground

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 177

whatever ; or rather, I should have been bewildered were
it not that, for now as many as thirty-four years, it has been
my lot to be misrepresented and opposed without any inter-
mission by one set of persons or another. Certainly, I have
desiderated in you, as in many others, that charity which
thinketh no evil, and have looked in vain for that consider-
ateness and sympathy which is due to a man who has passed
his life in attempting to subserve the cause and interests of
religion, and who, for the very reason that he has written so
much, must, from the frailty of our common nature, have
said things which had better not have been said, or left out
complements and explanations of what he has said, which
had better have been added.

* I am now an old man, perhaps within a few years of
my death, and you can now neither do me good nor harm.
I have never been otherwise than well-disposed towards
you. When you first entered the Holy Father's immediate
service, I used to say Mass for you the first day of every
month, that you might be prospered at your important
post ; and now I shall say Mass for you seven times,
beginning with this week, when we are keeping the Feast
of St. Philip, begging him at the same time to gain for
you a more equitable judgment of us and a kinder feeling
towards us on the part of our friends, than we have of late
years experienced.

' I am, dear Monsignor Talbot,

Yours very sincerely in Christ,

John H. Newman

of the Oratory.'

Monsignor Talbot's reply ran as follows :

* My dear P^ather Newman, — Many thanks for your kind
letter, dated on the Feast of St. Philip. Many thanks also
for your promise to say seven Masses for me, as in my
delicate position near the sacred person of the Holy Father,
I need as many prayers as I can get.

' I hope that now we may resume a correspondence which
has been intermitted for so long a period of time.

' Nevertheless, I must say that you have been misin-
formed if you have been told that I have " of late years
taken so strong a part against you without any real ground
whatever."

* I do not know who may have been your informants,
but there are certain mischief-makers in the world, whose
chief occupation seems to be to make feuds amongst

VOL. !i. . ^'

178 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

friends, by reporting^ to one what tlie other may have said
of him.

' I do not deny that certain expressions in your later
writings have not pleased me, and that I could not approve
of certain acts of yours which had the appearance of being
opposed to the wishes of the Holy See.

' Besides, a certain school in England have done you
much harm by making many believe that you sympathized
with their detestable views. You have also been more in-
jured by your friends than your enemies. When I was in
England three years ago, I heard some of them quoting your
name in opposition to the Authority of the Holy See. I
remarked that there was a party forming of what are called
" Liberal Catholics," who wished to place you at their head,
in preference of professing a filial devotion to the Vicar of
Christ, and a due veneration for the Chair of St. Peter.

' There is a saying : " God defend me from my friends ;
I can defend myself from my enemies."

' Such is your case. For twenty years I was your warm
admirer and defender, and should be delighted to be so still,
but when I found that there was a dangerous party rising in
England, who quoted your name, I was obliged to modify
my views, and stand up for Ecclesiastical Authority in
preference of worshipping great intellectual gifts.

' As for yourself personally, my love and affection has
never varied. I may have lately criticised some of your
public acts, as I have done those of many others of m\'
friends, but this is no reason why any coldness should exist
between priests who are all working for the same great end,
the greater glory of God, and salvation of souls.
' Believe me,

Sincerely yours in Christ,

Geo. Talbot.'

Ambrose St. John, before leaving Rome, wrote a last
word about the Rambler article, and described his farewell
interviews with Cardinals Barnabo and Reisach.

Father Ambrose St. John to Dr. Newman.

' May, 1867.

' Dearest Father, — Your letter of the 7th is just come,
and also your telegram No. 2.

' I have /(TJ'/j'Ay/ about the Rambler, — because our friends
(Palmer especially) say it must be the result of our coming
to Rome, — that they have quite given up your disobedience

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 179

(the Pope saying " Newman has been ' tutto ubbediente ' ")
so now they must give up your heterodoxy. Here you have
Franzelin's article. What you eventually do about this
cannot be determined while we are here. Your most happy
letter to the Cardinal enables me to say positively that " so
far from appealing ad misericordiam (as Talbot said to me),
you courted examination." To my amazement yesterday
Talbot told me coolly, he had seen tlie letter ; yet he forgot
or ignored that, and has declared to me : " Poor Newman,
when he was asked for an explanation only begged off being
called to Rome " ; it was quite consistent with this that he
should advise me not to show your letter to Cardinal
Wiseman to the Pope. Perrone and Cardella say : " show
it." Palmer says : " show it " ; so I am going to Barnabo,
(who as Henry told you also said " show it ") to ask for a
letter for an audience. De Luca, to whom I showed it. was
cautious as he is the Head of the Index, said I must get the
passages of the Rambler which were marked and their trans-
lation into Italian. He was very friendly but more cautious
than on the first meeting. Barnabo was very warm, down-
right hearty, said he loved you ; that you were a saint, saints
were persecuted, like Palotti, people made use of your name,
and pretended to have your protection — this was because
you had such a charitable heart. Poor old man, he is really
a very good-hearted man. He said to me : "I know both
men, — Manning and Newman. I know Manning best, but
I love Newman." He did not say, but the contrast led me
to think he liked your unassuming way in keeping to
yourself and doing your work. I know this is rather in
contradiction with what he said on our first meeting, but
you must recollect he has only heard one side before. I
asked as it has chanced apropos of your to-day's letter,
I suppose nothing said about Father Newman's too great
influence at Oxford affects the Oratory at Oxford. No, he
said, the leave is granted for the Oratory. Only Father
Newman is not to change his residence ; if he went for a
month this or that time it would not be making his residence
there of course. He spoke this cautiously, but I can answer
for his words ; and I am sure with you we must on no
account give up what we have got. I presented the " sup-
plica " with the three propositions and left it with him, and
the memorial about the Bishop. I said I hoped he would
not treat our school exceptionally. How could I think so?
Of course not. I said we had felt as if it had been treated
as dangerous. He would not allow this. . . The truth

N 2

I So LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

is those who have the gift of the gab (just as now) get their
way for a time. I have gabbed now so much with everybody
that I am getting confused. The general impression of
friends is that I have gabbed to some effect for the present.
I called on Cardinal Rcisach to-day — very bland and cour-
teous— apologized for not calling on you — talked of Oxford,
said it was different from German Universities where men
lived in Catholic families, e.g. Bonn. He wanted a high
school of studies as they have at Stonyhurst. He is no good
to us, and I left him gladly ; but we must be on good terms
with him — he spoke highly of you. I dined with Nardi
yesterday and talked a great deal very freely. He blames
the Civilta'^ for puffing Manning. I hope we shall get off by
Monday next, — this day week. . . .

'A. St. John.'

It now became clear that all was gained that could be
hoped for from the visit to Rome. The disposition to speak
well of Newman was universal. It was desirable that a full
statement in writing should be handed in to Propaganda on
the Oxford question. It would be well also if Newman took
some opportunity of explaining the Rambler article. It was
quite certain that the explanation would be received as
satisfactory. A full statement on the Oxford episode was
drawn up by Mr. Palmer and handed in on May \6}
The Rambler matter had of course to wait until Newman
found or made his own opportunity for an explanation ; and
St. John and his companion were therefore free to depart.
They reached the Oratory in time for St. Philip's feast on
May 26.

Newman, after talking things over with Ambrose St. John,
soon came to the conclusion that he must be satisfied with
completely clearing his reputation for orthodoxy in Rome.
His own reply to Franzelin's strictures on the Rambler ?lx\\c\q.
must be careful and thorough. As to the Oxford scheme,
his original impression, formed after the appearance of Mr.
Martin's letter, returned — that it must be dropped ; but this
step was not finally resolved upon until August, much corre-
spondence taking place with Hope-Scott in the interval. This
view was clearly the Bishop's. Bishop Ullathorne discussed
the matter fully with Propaganda in the course of a visit to
' The text of Mr. Palmer's statement is given at p. 549.

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) i8i

Rome in June. Newman saw him for the first time after his
return on August i,and learned that in Rome they considered
the Oxford matter at an end. The Bishop, however, did not
actually say what he evidently meant, that the entire Oxford
Oratory plan had better be abandoned. Dr. Newman's
conversation with Bishop Ullathorne is recorded in the
following memorandum :

' August 1st, 1867.

' I have just come from calling on the Bishop. It is the
first conversation I have had with him since his return from
Rome.

' I began by talking about his examination before the
Parliamentary Commission on the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill,
— nothing else.

' But after a time he got loose from it, and said that both
at Rome and since his return Dr. Manning had wished to
make it up with me. I said that I was just now in corre-
spondence with Oakeley on the subject, and told the Bishop
what I had said :

' He then talked of Cardinal Luca, [who had] said that
the Church (or the Archbishop, I forget which) must embrace
all opinions in the one faith, stretching out his arms.

' And Cardinal Barnabo had recommended the Bishops
through him to put out some declaration against controversy,
especially by laymen and in periodicals.

' He had freely spoken to Cardinal Reisach on his not
having taken any notice of me in England last year.

' He said Monsignor Capalti, Secretary of Propaganda,
was very strong about my going to Rome — implored me —
the Bishop in speaking to me evidently acquiesced, perhaps
he had suggested it to Capalti. He said I ought to stay a
whole season there — i.e. what he said came to this.

' Then he said abruptly, very grave, and looking straight
at me : " I find that at Rome they consider the Oxford matter
quite at an end." I answered: " I suppose they mean they
have said their last word." He answered, apparently not see-
ing the drift of my question : " Yes." What I meant was that
we had got leave to extend our Birmingham Oratory into
Oxford, provided I did not change my residence.

* As to educating for Oxford, he said that the Bishops'
Declaration had not yet returned from Rome. He could not
quite tell what it would be. As sent to Rome, it said, apropos
of a priest having in the confessional said to a penitent that
there was no sin in a father sending his son to Oxford, that

i82 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

such a father acted against the will of the Bishops and of the
Holy See.

'J. H. N.'

For a few days the future remained still uncertain, as is
evident from some words in a letter of August 13 from
Newman to Hope-Scott. In the course of this letter we find
the following reference to Manning :

' Manning has written to me wishing that we should meet
and give him an opportunity of explanation. Of course I seem
to put myself in the wrong by declining — but I seriously
think it would do more harm than good. I do not trust him,
and his new words would be the cause of fresh distrust. This,
as far as I could do delicately, I have suggested to him. I
have said that the whole world thought him difficult to under-
stand, that I should be glad to think it was my own fault that
I had not been prepared by his general bearing and talk for
his acts ; that friendly acts would be the best preparation for
a friendly meeting — and that I should hail that day, when
the past had been so far reversed, that explanations would be
natural and effectual. At present I should not in my heart
accept his explanations.' ^

In point of fact Manning had been urging Propaganda to
renew in a yet stronger form than hitherto the dissuasion to
English Catholic parents from sending their sons to Oxford.
And a fresh rescript arrived in this very month. Newman
had in the meantime written to Cardinal Barnabo protesting
against his action, which has been already alluded to in
reference to Edgbaston School. The te.xt of this correspon-
dence I have been unable to find. But from a note by
Newman it is clear that it became angry, and that Newman
declared that he left his cause with God, using the words
' viderit Deus.' In view of this state of things the Oratory at
Oxford was finally abandoned. It would mean a false posi-
tion, and one which was not likely to be made tenable by any
special sympathy in high quarters.

Newman communicated his views to Hope-Scott :

' August 1 6th, 1S67.
' My dear Hope-Scott, — The Rescript has just come from
Propaganda to the Bishops, /Vc?;// which they will draw up

' These words refer to the correspondence in the Life oj Cardinal
Manniri^, pp. 327-42.

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 183

their Pastoral Letters to Priests and People on the subject of
University Education.

' I suppose this Rescript will not be brought forward ;
and the immediate authority will be the Pastoral. . . .

' In the printed Documents {re Bishop's Pamphlet) which
I sent you the other day, I have said two things :

' I. That I go to Oxford sole/y because there are Catholic
Undergraduates there. . . .

* 2. That my going there nmst tend to bring Catholics
there.

' And now those two avowals are confronted by the
declaration from Propaganda : *' A youth can scarcely, or
not scarcely even, go to Oxford without throwing himself
into a proximate occasion of mortal sin."

' Does it not follow as an inevitable sequence in logic,
that if 1 go there I contemplate youths (or their parents)
throwing themselves into such proximate occasions and
moreover distinctly disobeying their Bishops who warn them
against it, and secondly that I co-operate in their act by
encouraging it ?

' All along I have professed and felt indifference, reluc-
tance, to go to Oxford. If I do go still after the Bishop's
Pastoral, shall I not fairly be considered to have made a
profession which I did not feel or mean to carry out ?

' It seems to me that I am simply in a false position if
I consent to go on with the Oxford undertaking after the
Rescript.

' The question is luhat I must do, and ivhen, to bring the
matter to an end.

' I do not see any difficulty in waiting till the Bishop
speaks to me, for the reasons which I shall give for my de-
cision, he has already heard, and they are quite independent
of those which arise out of the Rescript. The simple reason
of my not going on with the business is, that to my surprise
I found I was not allowed free liberty to go to Oxford.
This was the reason assigned in the letter which I wrote to
him on receipt of the news, and, though I was prevented by
our Fathers from sending that letter, I showed it him a week
or two after.

' I would rather give this reason than make it seem that
I withdrew in consequence of the Rescript. In the one case
I shall be withdrawing because I have been unfairly treated ;
in the other, because I have been detected in an animus and
foiled by a distinct message from Rome.

'The two grounds are so distinct that if I bring out my
own ground strongly in my letter, it will not matter whether

1 84 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

or not in matter of fact it is given to the public after the
expected Pastoral Letter. Is not this so? . . .

' Ever yours affly,

John H. Newman.'

Acting on this opinion, in which Hope-Scott concurred,
Newman wrote as follows to the Bishop ;

'The Orator)-, Birmingham : August l8th, 1867.

' My dear Lord, — I do not think you will feel any surprise
if I at length act on the resolve which I formed on the very
day that I heard of the restriction placed on my presence in
Oxford, which I have cherished ever since, and only not
carried out because of the dissuasion of friends here and
elsewhere.

' That dissuasion has now ceased ; and, accordingly,
I now ask your permission to withdraw from my engage-
ment to undertake the Mission of Oxford, on the ground
that I am not allowed by Propaganda the freedom to
discharge its duties with effect.

' Thanking you for all your kindness, and with much
regret for the trouble I have caused you,

' I am, &€., &c.

J. H. n;

Bishop Ullathorne's reply was as follows :

' Birmingham : Aug. iQlh, 1S67.

' My dear Dr. Newman, — Your letter reached me this
morning from Stone. I am not at all surprised that you
have renounced the project of the Oxford Mission. Were
I in the same position, I should do the same. And yet
I receive the announcement of your decision with a sense of
pain both acute and deep.

' I have no hesitation in saying it, as my complete
conviction, that you have been shamefully misrepresented at
Rome, and that by countrymen of our own.

' When I went thither I had some hope of being able to
put this affair more straight. But when I got there I plainly
saw that the time had not come for an impartial hearing.
Preoccupations in the quarters where alone representation is
effectual were still too strong, and minds were too much
occupied with the vast multitude of affairs brought to Rome
by so many Bishops there assembled.

' On the other hand, the closing sentence of your letter to
Cardinal Barnabo, which, the moment I read it, I felt would
be interpreted in a much stronger sense than you would have
intended, made so unpleasant an impression that I believe

THE APPEAL TO ROME (1867) 185

that sentence stood as a considerable obstacle in the way of
those explanations which were proffered by your own re-
presentatives.' Indeed, I have good evidence that it was so,
from those who took your part with cordiality. You will
quite understand that I am not making a reflection, but
pointing out a fact.

' I still trust that the time will come when the facts of the
case will be better understood at Rome, and when justice will
be done to you.

' Wi.shing you every blessing,

I remain, my dear Dr. Newman,
Your faithful & affectionate servant in Christ,

W. B. Ullathorne.'

' This is probably the letter referred to at page 182. Newman's own view of
the whole episode is naturally that which 1 have set forth in the text. But here,
as in the Irish University question, the attitude of the ecclesiastical authorities
will be very intelligible to the careful reader. The ' secret instruction ' which
made so painful an impression on Newman, coming to his knowledge as it did
coupled with Mr. Martin's unfriendly interpretation of its real import, was, as
has been explained at p. 139, not in intention unfriendly to him. Cardinal
Barnabo (see p. 160) considered that it ought to have been comm.unicated to
Newman when the d.inger was apparent that he might collect money from those
who, when subscribing, considered that he was free to reside at Oxford, The
leave for an Oxford Oratory had, as we have seen, been granted by Propaganda
on the strength of Dr. Ullathorne's explanation that Newman did not mean
actually to reside there (p. 179). Propaganda held thnt such residence would
militate against Pius IX. 's policy of opposition to ' mixed ' education and therefore
could not sanction it. But Dr. Ullathorne had been afraid of communicating
to Newman this condition lest he should misunderstand its true significance,
and had not informed him that he (the Bishop) had received instructions to
make sure that ihe condition was observed. The true facts eventually came
to Newman's knowledge together with an extremely painful and untrue suggestion
as to the reason for the proviso in question. And Newman's correspondence
with Cardiial Barnabo had afterwards assumed a lone so unfavourable to the
successful ntgotiation of a difficult matter, that the whole scheme was necessarily
dropped. This appears to be the outcome of the whole story.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867)

The final relinquishment of the Oxford scheme left the
extreme party triumphant ; but it left the practical prob-
lem of higher education for English Catholics unsolved.
The Catholic University in Ireland had originally been de-
signed to solve it, but it had failed. Catholics were now
authoritatively warned against Oxford and Cambridge ; but
where else were they to go for University training ? It was
part of what Newman afterwards called the policy of
' Nihilism ' pursued by the authorities.^ Actual difficulties
were not faced ; practicable remedies were not found. It
had been the same with his work for Christian thought in
the Rambler. Defects had been censured ; the work was
crushed and not carried out on lines free from objection.

Newman could not but feel that to persevere now in an
endeavour of which the utility was so little appreciated was
but to waste his time. An opportunity would soon be found
for the coup de grace if he did not now of his own accord
retire. It only remained to resign himself to uselessness in a
matter in which his antecedents seemed to mark him out as
so supremely useful, and to do faithfully his duty to all
concerned — the Pope, the Bishops, and the Catholic parents.

His feeling at the time of finally abandoning the scheme,
is given in a letter — very grave, very measured, very sad — to
Father Coleridge :

' The Oratory, Birniingliain: Aiigusi jotli, 1867.

' My dear Father Coleridge, — Thank you for your affec-
tionate letter. There are a hundred reasons why I was
bound to bring the Oxford matter to an end.

' For three years complete it has involved me in endless
correspondence, conversation, controversy, and bother, taking

' Sec p. 486.

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867) 187

up my time and thoughts. I felt it was wrong thus to fritter
away any longer such remaining time as God gives me. It
has been my Cross for years and years that I have gone on
"operose nihil agendo."

' There was the Rambler matter. The Cardinal and our
Bishop urged me to interfere with the conductors — and
thanked me when I consented. It involved me in endless
trouble and work. The correspondence is a huge heap.
I have been obliged to arrange and complete it with notes
and collateral papers, that I may ultimately be shown to have
acted a good part. This was the work of four or five years,
and what came of it ?

' I seem to be similarly circumstanced as regards the
Dublin University matters from 1852 to 1858. Letters and
papers without end and about nothing — and those not yet
sorted and arranged.

' I do believe my first thought has ever been " what
does God wish me to do ? " so I can't really be sorry
or repine — but I have very few persons on earth to thank —
and I have felt no call, after so many rebuffs, to go on with
this Oxford undertaking, and I am come to the conclusion
that, if Propaganda wants me for any purpose, it must be so
good as to ask me — and I shall wait to be asked — i.e. (as I
anticipate) "ad Graecas calendas."

' See what a time it has taken to tell you reason one. I
will mention only one other, which is abundantly clear, (if it
ever were doubtful) from the answers I have had to my late
circular. The money was given to me personally — the sub-
scribers wanted to see me in Oxford (I am talking of the
majority of them) — they would not give their money for an
Oxford mission merely. When the Propaganda decided that
I was not personally to be there, it would have been a mis-
appropriation of their money to spend it merely on an Oxford
Church. . . .

* Yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

Newman's letters during the remainder of this year show
constantly his great anxiety both to clear completely his
reputation for orthodoxy and loyalty at Rome and to act in
strict conformity with his duty towards the Bishops. Hope-
Scott had put down his solicitude as to Roman opinion to
undue sensitiveness. Early in the year he had ascribed to
the same cause Newman's fears lest the suspicions of his
orthodoxy on the part of such men as Mr. Martin, and certain

i88 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

rumours on the same subject which had found currency in
the Chronicle, might do him further harm. When the existence
of the ' secret instruction ' became known Newman had
written to him claiming that his suspicions were justified.

Dr. Newman to Mr. Hope-Scott.

♦April 13, 1867.

' I think it is now proved that what you called my "sen-
sitiveness " was not timidity, or particularity, or touchiness,
but a true instinct of the state of the ecclesiastical atmo-
sphere— nor is it wonderful that I should know more than
you of what threatened and what did not, as you (I suspect)
would know more than I could know about the temper of
Parliamentary committees, and Gladstone more than myself
about political parties. That neophyte, Mr. Martin, is an
index of the state of the weather at Rome, as the insects
swarming near the earth is a sign of rain ; — and rash sayings
in the Chj'onide may be of as much danger indirectly to my
influence in England, as an open window may avail to give
me a cold. . . . No one but myself knows how intensely
anxious I have been, since I have been a Catholic, never to
say anything without good theological authority for saying
it, and, though of course with the greatest care the humana
incuria is at fault, yet I have no reason to suppose that my
mistakes are more than those which all writers incur ; — yet
there is no doubt that I am looked at with suspicion at Rome,
because I will not go the whole hog in all the extravagances
of the school of the day, and I cannot move my finger without
giving offence.'

The report brought by Ambrose St. John from Rome in
May had done something towards allaying Newman's fears
as to Roman suspicions of his orthodoxy. And the more
favourable impression was confirmed by a visit in August
from Monsignor Nardi, which is recorded with a good deal
of dry humour in a memorandum written by Newman at
the time. That Italian prelate's words went to show that
it was in England, rather than in Rome, that he had active
enemies who impugned the soundness of his theology.

'August 24, 1S67.

' Monsignor Nardi came here for an hour or two yesterday.
I will set down some of the things he said in a long
conversation.

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867) 18^

' I was a great man — no denying it — a great writer — good
style — good strong logic — my style went very easily into
Italian — it was a classical style. Of course I had my enemies
— they are in England or Englishmen — but all Catholics, to
speak as a whole, were my friends. He did not speak from
flattery — no — he always spoke his mind, even to the Pope.
He was one of the consultors of the Index, There were
things in what I had written which he did not like— that
about original sin (here I set him right, and he seemed
to give in — he had forgotten " deprivation and the con-
seqtiences of deprivation " — he could hardly believe I had
made this addition) and that about a people's religion being
a corrupt religion.^ But perhaps the vehemence of writing
could not be helped. I had very good friends. Father St.
John was a good friend of mine, very — and a great gentleman.
Cardinal Cullen was a good friend, yes — a very good friend.
I understood him to mean by " good friends " persons who had
been a real service to me. I ought to send persons from
time to time to explain things and keep authorities at Rome
a?i courant. I ought to go to Rome myself. It would rejoice
the Holy Father — I ought to be a Bishop, Archbishop — yes
yes— I ought, I ought, — yes, a very good Bishop — it is your
line, it is, it is—W was no good my saying it was not.

' I ought to take the part of the Pope. " We have very
few friends," he said — " very few " — he spoke in a very grave
earnest mournful tone — no one could tell what was to
take place in Rome, the next, not year but, month. All
through Italy the upper class was infidel — and the lower was
getting profane and blasphemous. This was for want of
education — the fault of Austria, Infidels were put over its
education — the churches turned into granaries and stables.
The next generation would be infidels, far worse than the
present. There was no chance of a reaction. All this was
no fault of the Priests — perhaps there were r,ooo Priests in
Italy who had turned out bad — but what were they out of
160,000 ?

' What we wanted in England for Catholics was education
— how could youths whose education ended at 17 or 18
compete with those whose education went on to 22 ? There
was no chance of a Catholic University. He seemed to
agree with me that London was as bad as Oxford — worse,
he had been in the neighbourhood of (I think) Charing Cross

' In his Letter to Pusey he had written as follows : * A people's religion is
ever a corrupt religion in spite of the provisions of Holy Q\m.xc\\.' —Difficulties of
Anglicans, ii. 8l.

I90 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

lately in the evening, no priest could walk there — no — he
was obliged to call a cab.

' He wanted to see Father Ryder's pamphlet — William
gave him a copy — he wanted my photograph. I gave him
two.'

Although, however, both Ambrose St. John's report and
the visit of the Roman Monsignor had somewhat encouraged
Newman as to the friendliness of Rome, his anxiety was by
no means at an end. The Oratory School was still gossiped
about as preparing boys for Oxford against the wishes of the
Holy See. His interchange of letters with Cardinal Barnabo
showed that that prelate looked at the school with suspicion.
With the memory still green of his two crushing rebuffs in
the Oxford matter, it is not surprising that he became anxious
lest some pretext might be found for bringing to an end the
Oratory School. These fears he communicated to Hope-Scott
on September 9 :

' It seems to me certain, that, if we go on just as we are
going on now, our school will be stopped. We shall have
endless trouble, correspondence, inquiries, false reports, ex-
planations, letters to Propaganda, journeys to Rome, ending,
after some years and a languishing concern, in an order from
Rome, or a recommendation from our Bishop, to wind up.

' The simplest way of all is to stop now, and on the
ground of [Cardinal Barnabo's] letter, stating how we prac-
tically interpret it, and the result which it foreshadows ; — but
then, I. I doubt whether we should carry our friends with us ;
friends and enemies would say it was " sensitiveness" in me,
and enemies would have the double pleasure of blaming me
and rejoicing in my act. 2. It would be a loss of perhaps
as much as 50/. a year, the interest of the money which
the Oratory or individual Fathers have lent to the school.
3. Better times may come ; if we once stop the school, we
cannot recommence it ; it is gone for ever. 4. We are doing
the Birmingham Oratory a great service in rooting it in the
minds and affections of the next generation by setting up
an educational system such as ours, and indirectly by our
action in other Catholic schools.

* But then, on the other hand, look at this last reason.
In proportion as we are doing good, we are offending the
Catholic school interest throughout the country, and Ushaw
and Stonyhurst neither like a new establishment to take their
boys from them nor to put them on their mettle. That we

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867) 191

are something new tells with great force at Rome, where the
defects of English Catholic secular education are not under-
stood. I think there is a determination not to let me have
anything to do with education. W. G. Ward openly confesses
this ; Manning does not, but then four years ago, in an
enumeration in the Dublin Reviezv of the English Catholic
Schools, he pointedly left ours out ; and about the same time
his head Oblate at Bayswater, writing to me on another
matter, let drop in the course of his letter that our school
was only a temporary concern.

' What is the good of spending an additional penny on
our school ? is it not flinging away good money after bad }

* Suppose we limited our boys to the age of fourteen or
sixteen, which is in principle what we originally intended ; —
and to this day no other school can boast, as we can, of
our care of young boys. We could in our Prospectus and
Advertisement enlarge on this. Or again, without committing
ourselves to a limit, suppose we in our own minds prepared
for it, made up our minds to it as a result of Cardinal
Barnabo's letter to me. Suppose we left everything alone,
but this, viz. to add to our Prospectus and Advertisement :
" In consequence of special instructions received from the
Cardinal Prefect of Propaganda, and to carry out the wishes
of our Bishops, as expressed in their united letter. Father
Newman wishes it to be known (to his friends) that no boy
is received at the Oratory School, who is intended by his
parents for the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and
that he hopes for their friendly aid to enable him to observe
bona fide this rule."

' You will let me have your thoughts on the whole subject.
Ambrose is going to consult Bishop Clifford.'

While Newman was deliberating as to his best course with
a view to preserving the school, he felt that his only safe plan
when conversing with the parents of boys was to avoid the
question of Oxford altogether. He definitely declined to
speak of it in letters to parents who consulted him as to the
future of their boys.

The Bishop of Birmingham issued a Pastoral in October
discouraging Catholics from going to Oxford. Newman
hastened to intimate his obedience. He at once inserted the
following passage in the Oratory School prospectus :

' In accordance with the instructions contained in the
Pastoral of the Bishop of Birmingham of October 13th, 1867,

192 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

there is no preparation provided for the examinations at
Oxford and Cambridge.'

Newman's anxious conscientiousness did not go without
its reward. Dr. Ullathorne and other friends were instant
and indignant in their representations at Rome both as to
his whole-hearted loyalty and his orthodoxy. On the other
hand, the party which accused his writings of being unsound
were active in making their views known at headquarters.
In the end their busy gossip defeated its object. Pius IX.,
who had ever shown for Newman both regard and considera-
tion, determined to bring matters to a head, and applied to
Dr. Cullen, as a responsible authority who knew Newman's
writings well, for an opinion as to their orthodoxy. The
result was so entirely favourable that Newman was, with the
Pope's approval, invited later on both to help in preparing
matter for the Vatican Council and to assist at the Council
itself as one of the official theologians.

Dr. Cullen's report was made known to Newman in the
autumn of 1867 at the Pope's express desire. The news was
a ray of sunshine in gloomy weather.

' I consider,' Newman writes in a note dated 1872, ' that
the Pope having sent to Dr. Cullen to ask about the character
and drift of my writings, and Dr. Cullen having reported to
nim most favourably, and he (the Pope) having wished this
distinctly to be told me, and then two years after having
invited me as a theologian to the Ecumenical Council, alto-
gether wipes off Mr. Martin, Zulueta, &c., &c.'

It was perhaps the fresh courage which the good news
from Rome gave which made him ready now to .speak his
mind more openly as to the Oxford question. A very full
letter to a friend reviews the situation with great care :

' The Oratory, Novr. lo, 1S67.

' My dear Lady Simeon, — Your letter came yesterday.
I answer at once to the best of my ability, it being my matter
as well as it is yours, and perhaps a greater difficult)- to me
than to you.

' Let me begin by saying plainly that after the Propaganda
Rescript, only under very peculiar, extraordinary circum-
stances could I make myself responsible for a youth's going
to Oxford. If he turned out ill, it would not satisfy my

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867) 193

mind to say " There are greater dangers in periodical litera-
ture than in Oxford, he would have gone wrong wheresoever
he was." I should have before me a result which I had
directly caused, not an hypothesis.

' Having said this at starting, let me now state the case as
it really lies.

' I. I say with Cardinal Bellarmine whether the Pope be
infallible or not in any pronouncement, anyhow he is to be
obeyed. No good can come from disobedience. His facts
and his warnings may be all wrong ; his deliberations may
have been biassed. He may have been misled. Imperiousness
and craft, tyranny and cruelty, may be patent in the conduct
of his advisers and instruments. But when he speaks formally
and authoritatively he speaks as our Lord would have him
speak, and all those imperfections and sins of individuals are
overruled for that result which our Lord intends (just as the
action of the wicked and of enemies to the Church are over-
ruled) and therefore the Pope's word stands, and a blessing
goes with obedience to it, and no blessing with disobedience.

' 2. But next, I say, there is no command, no prohibition in
the Propaganda Rescript which is the subject of your letter :
And this, on purpose. The Pope might have prohibited youth
from going to Oxford had he been so minded, but he has not
done so. For three years past it has been declared by the
Bishops in England, that there should be no prohibition.
At the Episcopal meeting in December 1864 two, and two
only, of the Bishops were for a prohibition. In the spring
Cardinal Barnabo told Father St. John that there would be
no prohibition. He said " We shall do as we did in Ireland
twenty years ago. Archbishop McHale wished a prohibition
but we only dissuaded. This we shall do now."

' 3. What then is the message if not a prohibition ? It is
the greatest of dissuasions. It throws all the responsibility
of the act upon those who send a youth to Oxford. It is an
authoritative solemn warning.

' 4. Is not this equivalent to a prohibition ? No. A
prohibition must be obeyed implicitly — but when the Pope
condescends not to command, but to reason, he puts the case
as it were into our hands and makes us the ultimate judge,
he taking the place of a witness of preponderating authority.

* 5. What follows from this ? That all the responsibility
falls on the parent who sends his son to Oxford, that he
must in his own conscience make out a case strong enough
to overcome in his particular case the general dissuasion of
the Vicar of Christ. Every rule has its exceptions. He has

VOL. II. ' O

T94 I^IFR OF (^VRDINAL NEWMAN

to prove to the satisfaction of his conscience on his death-
bed, to the satisfaction of the priest who hears his confession,
that the case of his own boy is an exceptional one.

'6. And such exceptions there are. Let me illustrate
what I mean. We must take care of the young one by one,
as a mother does, and as an Archbishop does not. IVe
know our own, one by one (if we are priests with the pastoral
charge) as our ecclesiastical rulers cannot know them. It
were well indeed if some high prelates recollected more
than they seem to do the words of the Apostle : " Fathers
provoke not j'our children to anger lest they become pusil-
lanimous," depressed, disgusted, disappointed, unsettled,
reckless. Youth is the time of generous and enthusiastic
impulses ; young men are imprudent, and get into scrapes.
Perhaps they fall in love imprudentl)'. To carry out an
engagement on which they have set their hearts may seem to
their parents a madness ; most truly, yet it may be a greater
madness to prohibit it. All of us must recollect instances
when to suffer what is bad in itself is the lesser of great evils,
as the event has shown. When there has been a successful
prohibition it has resulted in a life-long ruin to the person
who is so dear to us, for whose welfare we have been mis-
takenly zealous. It does not do to beat the life out of a
youth — the life of aspirations, excitement and enthusiasm.
Older men live by reason, habit and self-control, but the
)'Oung live by visions. I can fancy cases in which Oxford
would be the salvation of a youth ; when he would be far
more likely to rise up against authority, murmur against his
superiors, and (more) to become an unbeliever, if he is kept
from Oxford than if he is sent there.

' 7. Now as to I am far from making such dreadful

vaticinations about him. I will but say that he, being a boy,
must be treated with the greatest care. It is certain that
the prospect of going to Oxford roused him into an activity
which he had not before. Also I am told that he was con-
siderably excited on hearing in Church our Bishop's Pastoral
read.

' 8. This then is what I recommend, viz. : He is only
seventeen. Youths do not go to Oxford till they are
nineteen. Do nothing at present. His name is already

down at . Wait for a year and a half; many things

may turn up in that time. For instance there is a talk of
Oxford Examinations and degrees being opened to those
who have not resided, and Father Weld said the other day to
me that he should prefer such an opening for his students to

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867) 195

their taking their degrees at the London University. This is
one outlet from the difficulty, others may show themselves.
Therefore I recommend waiting and temporizing.

'9. I don't see there is any call upon you to initiate any-
thing, though you are bound to speak when questions are
asked for. But this is a matter for your confessor. One
thing I am strong upon ; — boys are ticklish animals and I
think you had better not write to .

' Excuse, my dear Lady Simeon, the freedom of this
letter and believe me, &c., &c.

J. H. N.'

Although there was no positive and universal prohibi-
tion from Rome on the Oxford question, it was clear that the
Catholic young men as a body would now keep away from
the Universities. There was naturally a strong feeling among
the laity that their sons were left with no provision for their
education. And many thought the objection to Oxford quite
ungrounded. ' The only foundation,' wrote Newman himself,
' for the statement that Catholics at Oxford have made ship-
wreck of the faith that the Bishop and we could make out
was that Weld Blundell ducked a Puseyite in Mercury, and
Redington has been talking loosely about the Temporal
Power in Rome.' The Jesuits and Archbishop Manning now
discussed the formation of a Catholic University College, and
Father Weld, a Jesuit father, sought Newman's co-operation.
Newman felt, however, that such a scheme had little chance
of success. It was not likely to be in the hands of a really
representative committee, but rather in those of Manning's
friends. The laity would not be fairly represented. And
he had come, after his Irish experience, to think a Catholic
University not practicable. There is little heart or hope
in his letter to Hope-Scott on the subject :

To Mr. Hope-Scott.

'Rednal: Sept. 25, 1S67.

' My dear Hope-Scott, — The Archbishop is going to set
up a House of higher studies — report says it is to be near
Reading and that he has got large sums of money. I sup-
pose he has been urged on by the Pope, or by Propaganda
— for I don't think he will like this additional and most
anxious work on his hands. I know it from Father Weld,

196 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

who has sent me word that he is going to call on me
about it.

' This concerns both you and me, for your influence as a
layman cannot be overlooked ; and I wish to act with you,
though our lines are separate ; for they will come to you with
the desire of finding means ; and as to me I don't suppose
they want my advice or co-operation, but only my name.

' Now suppose he comes to say that there is to be a
Committee, and the Archbishop wishes me to be on it ; what
shall I answer? Are there laymen on it? "Yes. As to
Hope-Scott he is so full of work, we could not hope to get
him; as to Monsell he is Irish" — and so "our laymen arc
W. G. Ward, Allies, H. Wilberforce, Lord Petre, Lewis, and
Sir G. Bowyer," &c. ... Is not the upshot, that I must
know who constitute the Committee, and what they are
going definitely to do, before I say anything to the proposal ?
' As to the plan itself, I cannot of course object to it,
except on the ground of its impracticability, for I have written
several volumes in support of it, as Father Weld indirectly
reminded me. Nor are you likely to object to it, for it is not
so long since you talked of our setting up a House of Higher
Studies — that is, about four years ago, before the Oxford
projects came up. If you thought it practicable ^/len, why
should you not think so now? If then you have difficulties,
it must be in the particular scheme put forward.

' I have been trying to recollect our Dublin difficulties, in
order to profit by my experience. As far as I can recollect,
they were these: — i. division among the Bishops, which is
not likely to be the case in England. 2. the want of power
to give degrees. 3. the exclusion of laymen from influence
in the management, not only of the University, but even of
the accounts. For this reason, I think even to this day,
More O'Ferrall is not a subscriber to it. Of these the second
is the best in argument, and as good as any. It seems to
me almost fatal. If it be said, " We will affiliate ourselves
to London," should not I answer, " Why not to Oxford ? "
which they will be able to do shortly, I believe — duf they
won^t.

' As to the third reason, it concerns you. I should add to
it the prospective difficulty of securing the appointment of lay
Professors. . . . Father Weld being sent to me seems to
show that some at least of the Professors are to be Jesuits.
I won't say anything to offend them, but this at least I am
resolved on, I think, that I will have nothing to do with the
plan, unless the Professors are lay. But if so, and if they are

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867) 197

not to be lay, had not I better have nothing to do with the
scheme from the first ?

' I have written as my thoughts came, that you may have
something to think about, and when you have anything to
say, let me hear from you.

'J. H. n:

When the plan was made known to Newman in detail by
Father Weld, it did not prove to be in the direction of the
kind of University College in which he was disposed to feel
any confidence.

'Rednal: Oct. lo, 1867.

' My dear Hope-Scott, — Father Weld called on me on
Monday. He was making a round, apparently, of the
Catholic Schools. He went from us to Oscott.

* His plan is simply a Jesuit one, as you said. He pro-
poses to transplant the philosophy and theology classes from
Stonyhurst and St. Beuno's to some place on the banks of the
Thames. This will give it sixty youths as a nucleus. Then
he will invite lay youths generally to join them, having
a good array of Professors from the two Colleges I have
named.

' He had not a doudf, but he made a question, whether it
would do to put Jesuit Novices and lay youths together ; dui
he said he thought it would succeed, for their novices were
too well cared for to be hurt by the contact of lay youths, —
though students for the secular priesthood might in such a
case suffer. I ventured to say that I thought the difficulty
would lie on the other side, in the prospect of getting parents
to send their sons to a sort of Jesuit Noviceship ; and, if they
did, of getting the youths themselves to acquiesce in it. I am
not sure he entered into my meaning, for he passed the
difficulty over.

' When I mentioned it to Father St. John, he reminded
me that good Father Bresciani S.J. at Propaganda, twenty
years ago, detailed to us with what great success they
had pursued this plan in Piedmont — and how pious the
young laymen were in consequence. I wonder whether
Cavour, Minghetti, &c., &c., were in the number of these lay
youths.

' Then he said he thought it would be a great thing to
indoctrinate the lay youths in Philosophy^ as an antidote to
Mill and Bain. I tried myself to fancy some of our late
scholars, . . . sitting down steadily to Dmouski, Liberatore,
&c. &c.

198 TJFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

* I said, that, if I had the opportunity, I certainly would
do my part in sending him youths, though I did not expect
I should be able to do much. And I sincerely wish him all
success — for it is fair he should have his innings.

' It will amuse you to hear that I contemplate publishing
in one volume my verses ; and still more that I think of
dedicating them to Badeley.

' Yours affectly.,

J. H. N.'

The proposed Catholic University found such small
support that it could not at this time even be brought into
existence. A (ew years later it was attempted in the
Catholic University College founded by Cardinal Manning
at Kensington : and it proved a ludicrous failure.^ Newman's
views received the sad justification of experience both in
Ireland and in England — that to act on ideal principles
with little or no attempt to forecast accurately what was
practicable, was to court failure.

In view of this state of things it would not have been
surprising if Newman had allowed all who applied to him
for his opinion to know how keenly he felt on the whole
subject. It is well therefore to place here on record the
chivalrous loyalty with which he did his best to defend to
outsiders the action of Propaganda and the Bishops which
he deplored. He wrote thus on the subject to Canon Jenkins
of Lyminge :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : Dec. 12, 1867.

' My dear Mr. Jenkins, — Thank you for your kind letter.
The Oxford Scheme has been at an end since April last when
I ceased to collect contributions for it.

' The cause is very intelligible. It was most natural for
authorities at Rome to take the advice of Oxford converts
as to whether youths should be allowed to go to Oxford.
Accordingly the late Cardinal applied to various among
the Oxford men. Every one of name who was applied
to, dissuaded Propaganda from allowing Catholic youths
that liberty. Among these were Dr. Manning, Mr. Ward,

' So unwilling, however, was Manning to own to failure, that the name
'Catholic University College ' was for years retained, when the only correspond-
ing reality was a group of ihree or four boys taught by that very able Professor
and man of science, the late Dr. K. 1'". Clarke, at Si. Charles' College, Bayswater.

THE DEADLOCK IN HIGHER EDUCATION (1867) 199

Dr. Northcote, Mr. Coffin, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Dalgairns ; and
Cambridge men, such as Mr, Knox, and Mr. Marshall,
supported them. It is not wonderful, then, that, deferring to
the opinion of such men, Propaganda has resolved on putting
strong obstacles in the way of youths going to the Univer-
sities. And if it did this, it could not help hindering
my going to Oxford — for many parents would consider
that the presence of any Priest who knew Oxford well, was
a pledge that their children would be protected against the
scepticism and infidelity which too notoriously prevail there
just now.

* Yours very sincerely,

J. H. Newman.'

CHAPTER XXVII

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY

(1 867- 1 868)

The abandonment of the Oxford scheme was, in Newman's
eyes, the final relinquishment of all hope of further active
work before his death. He was sixty-six years old ; and
though his health was good, this was not an age for vigorous
initiation. He was deeply pained at the action of the
authorities in the Oxford matter. The powerful party
headed by Manning had prevailed, without any opportunity
being given to those who thought differently from them
for stating their views. Cardinal Reisach had reported to
Rome on the subject without even hearing Newman's case.
Cardinal Barnabo was responsible for the ' secret instruction '
and for the slur cast on the Oratory School by exceptional
treatment. An entry in the journal on October 30, 1867,
recalls the famous letter of St. Thomas a Becket to Cardinal
Albert, in which he protests against the action of the Roman
courts. To this protest Newman expressly refers in one of
his letters. And, like St. Thomas, he appeals for the vindi-
cation of his own loyalty to the Church from the judgment
of ecclesiastical superiors to that of God. ^

' What I have written in the foregoing pages has been
written as a sort of relief to my mind ; if that were the only
reason for writing, I should not write now, for I have no
trouble within me to be relieved of I will put myself under
the image of the Patriarch Job, without intending to liken
myself to him. He first strenuously resisted the charges of
his friends, then he made a long protest of his innocence, and
then we read : " The words of Job are ended." Mine are

' Scripta Rer. Francic. torn. xvi. pp. 416, 417. Cardinal CuUen's favourable
report to the Pope concerning the orthodoxy of Newman's writings was probably not
made known to him until after this entry had been written.

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 201

ended too — I have said to Cardinal Barnabo : " Viderit
Deus." I have lodged my cause with Him — and, while I
hope ever by His grace to be obedient, I have now as little
desire as I have hope to gain the praise of such as him in
anything I shall do henceforth. A. B. and others have been
too much for me. They have too deeply impressed the
minds of authorities at Rome against me to let the truth
about me have fair play while I live ; and when one ceases
to hope, one ceases to fear. They have done their worst —
and, as Almighty God in 1864 cleared up my conduct in the
sight of Protestants at the end of twenty years, so as regards
my Catholic course, at length, after I am gone hence, " Deus
viderit ! "

' I did not use the words lightly, though they seem to
have rested most unfavourably on his mind — nor do I dream
of retracting them. For many years I tried to approve
myself to such as him, but it is now more than ten years
that, from failing to do so, I have been gradually weaned
from any such expectation or longing. I have recorded the
change in the words of my Dublin Sermon of November 23rd,
1856, though covertly and only to my own consciousness.
" There are those who . . . think we mean to spend our
devotion upon a human cause, and that we toil for an object
of human ambition. They think that we should acknowledge,
if cross-examined, that our ultimate purpose was the success
of persons and parties, to whom we are bound in honour, or
in interest, or in gratitude ; and that, &c. . . . They fancy,
as the largest concession of their liberality, that we are
working from the desire, generous but still human, of the
praise of earthly superiors, and that, after all, we are living on
the breath, and basking in the smile, of man," &c., &c.

' And now, alas, I fear that in one sense the iron has
entered into my soul. I mean that confidence in any
superiors whatever never can blossom again within me. I
never shall feel easy with them. I shall, I feel, always think
they will be taking some advantage of me, — that at length
their way will lie across mine, and that my efforts will be
displeasing to them. I shall ever be suspicious that they or
theirs have secret unkind thoughts of me, and that they deal
with me with some arriere pensee. And, as it is my
happiness so to be placed as not to have much intercourse
with them, therefore, while I hope ever loyally to fulfil their
orders, it is my highest gain and most earnest request to
them, that they would let me alone — and, since I do not
want to initiate any new plan of any kind, that, if they can.

202 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

they would keep their hands off me. Whether or not they
will consent to this is more than I can say, for they seem to
wish to ostracise me. But, in saying this, I repeat what I
said when I began to write, I am now in a state of quiescence,
and fear as little as I hope. And I do not expect this
state of mind to be reversed. God forbid I should liken
them to the " Scribes and Pharisees " — but still I obey
them, as Scribes and Pharisees were to be obeyed, as God's
representatives, not from devotion to thevi.

' Nor does anything that has happened to mc interfere
with, rather these external matters have all wonderfully
promoted, my inward happiness. 1 never was in such simply
happy circumstances as now, and I do not know how I can
fancy I shall continue without some or other real cross. I am
my own master, — I have my time my own — I am surrounded
with comforts and conveniences — I am in easy circumstances,
I have no cares, I have good health — I have no pain of mind
or body. I enjoy life only too well. The weight of years
falls on me as snow, gently though surely, but I do not feel it
yet. I am surrounded with dear friends — my reputation has
been cleared by the *' Apologia." What can I want but
greater gratitude and love towards the Giver of all these good
things ? There is no state of life I prefer to my own —
I would not change my position for that of anyone I know —
I am simply content — there is nothing I desire — I should be
puzzled to know what to ask, if I were free to ask. I should
say perhaps that I wished the financial matters of the Oratory
and School to be in a better state — but for myself I am as
covered with blessings and as full of God's gifts, as is conceiv-
able. And I have nothing to ask for but pardon and grace,
and a happy death.'

Things were, as this last paragraph intimates, far better
with him than in the sad years before the ' Apologia.' His
hold on the minds of men was re-established. Yet the
next entry shows some misgiving lest he may not be
turning his renewed influence to good account. But as
to taking further part in the controversies of the day he
decided to let well alone.

To go too fast might irritate people. To pause awhile,
on the contrary, gave time for principles he had laid down in
his writings to take deeper hold on men's minds. To keep
his name and influence secure from the onslaughts incidental
to controversy might be the best means of enabling others,

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 203

when Ihe suitable time should come, to use that name in the
task of applying and emphasising his views.
On January 29, 1868, he writes thus :

' Our Lord has said : " Vae cum bencdixcrint vobis
homines " (Luc. vi. 26), kuXcos v/xas scTrwai, and I seem to be
in this danger as regards the Protestant world. A reaction
has set in, nor does one know what will be its limits. Just
now, my Verses, which I have collected and published, have
both stimulated and manifested it. I feel as if a Nemesis
would come, if I am not careful and am reminded of the ring
of Polycrates. Friends and well-wishers out of kindness are
writing favourable reviews of my small book, and I am
obliged to read out of gratitude what they say of me so
generously. I have said : " the Protestant world " — but it ex-
tends to the great mass of (English speaking) Catholics also ;
till the " Apologia " I was thought " passe " and forgotten.
The controversy which occasioned it, and then the Oxford
matter and the " Dream of Gerontius " have brought me out,
and now I should be hard indeed to please, and very un-
grateful to them, and to God, if I did not duly appreciate
this thought of me.

' Then comes the question : what use can I make of these
fresh mercies ? Not from any supernatural principle, but
from mere natural temper, I keep saying, what is the good of
all this ? what comes of it? " Vanitas Vanitatum," if it is but
empty praise. What use can I make of it ? for what is it
given me ? And then, too, on the other hand, when I am well
thought of, and the world is in good humour with me, I am
led to say to myself: "Let well alone; do not hazard by
any fresh act the loss of that, which you have been so long
without, and found such difficulty in getting. Enjoy the
" otium cum dignitate."

* " Otium cum dignitate " reminds me of " Otium cum in-
dignitate " ; yes, as far as Propaganda goes, and that English
party of which Archbishop Manning and Ward are the
support, I have been dismissed not simply as" inglorious," but
to " dishonoured ease." And this would certainly serve as the
ring of Polycrates, did I feel it — but I don't feel it. And, as
I had said on some former page, I should be so out of my
element if I were without that cold shade on the side of
ecclesiastical authority, in which I have dwelt nearly all my
life, my eyes would be so dazed, and my limbs so relaxed,
were I brought out to bask in the full sun of ecclesiastical
favour, that I should not know how to act and should make
a fool of myself.

204 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' As my Lord had some purpose in letting me be so long
forgotten and calumniated, as He has had some purpose in
leaving me, as regards ecclesiastical authorities, under that
cloud which He has lately removed from me as regards
Catholics and Protestants generally, so now He has some
purpose in that late removal — if I could know what it is.
Perhaps He wishes me to do nothing new, but He is creating
an opportunity for what I have already written to work.
Perhaps my duty is, what is only too pleasant, to sit still, do
nothing, and enjoy myself Perhaps my name is to be turned
to account as a sanction and outset by which others, who
agree with me in opinion, should write and publish instead
of me, and thus begin the transmission of views in religious
and intellectual matters congenial with my own, to the
generation after me.'

Newman gave himself for a time to slighter tasks, which
did not need great labour. He coached the Edgbaston boys
for Terence's ' Phormio,' which he had arranged for them in
1865, and which was to be performed again in May 1868. He
arranged (as we have seen) to publish a complete edition of his
verses, which he dedicated to Edward Badeley. The prepara-
tion of this volume was congenial labour. He once described
his feeling about verse-making in a letter to R. H. Hutton.

' If I had my way,' he wrote, ' I should give myself up
to verse-making ; it is nearly the only kind of composition
which is not a trouble to me, but I have never had time. As
to my prose volumes, I have scarcely written any one without
an external stimulus ; their composition has been to me, in
point of pain, a mental childbearing, and I have been
accustomed to say to myself: "In sorrow shalt thou bring
forth children."

' But to return to the verses, I am surprised at the high
terms in which you speak of them. I wrote those in the Lyra
just before the commencement of the Oxford Movement, while
travelling, and during convalescence after fever, and while
crossing the Mediterranean homc[wards]. I have never had
practice enough to have words and metres at my command.
And besides, at the time I had a theory, one of the extreme
theories of the incipient Movement, that it was not right
" agere poctam " but merely " ecclesiasticum agere " ; that
the one thing called for was to bring out an idea ; that the
harsher the better, like weaving sackcloth, if only it would
serve as an evidence that I was not making an nywina/ia.'

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 205

The volume appeared in January, and in its pages the
' Dream of Gerontius ' took its place for the first time
among his collected poems. The book was received with a
chorus of praise, Mr. Hutton leading the way in the
Spectator. Newman was touched and cheered at its
favourable reception. He writes on February 6 to Father
Coleridge, who had reviewed the volume in the Month :

' . . . I have not written to you since the critique of my
Verses in the MontJi. I think I must find some ring of
Polycrates to make a sacrifice to fortune, else, some Nemesis
will come on me. I am bound to read the various critiques
on me, for they are written by kind persons, who wish to do
a thing pleasing to me, and whom I should be very ungrate-
ful not to respond to, and they do please me — but I have
been so little used to praise in my life, that I feel like the
good woman in the song, " O, cried the little woman, sure it
is not L" '

A peaceful spring and summer followed : ' four months,'
he notes in his diary, ' of beautiful weather ' ; and in June he
resolved to execute a task of love and pain which he had
long had in mind — to pay a farewell visit to Littlemore.
The visit is chronicled in a letter to Henry Wilberforce, who
had written in the same month to urge Newman to pay him
a visit at Farnham :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : June 18/68.

' Thank you for your affectionate letter and invitation —
but I can't accept it. It is not much more than a week since
I refused one from my sister. I have real duties here which
make it difficult to get away ; I am on a strict regime, which
I don't like to omit for a day — and I have an old man's
reluctance to move. I have promised R. W. Church a visit
for several years, and it must be my first.

* I am gradually knocking off some purposes of the kind.
When your letter came, I was at Littlemore : I had always
hoped to see it once before I died. Ambrose and I went by
the 7 a.m. train to Abingdon, then across to Littlemore —
then direct from Littlemore by rail to Birmingham where we
arrived by 7 — ^just 1 2 hours. . . . Littlemore is now green.

' Crawley's cottage and garden (upon my 10 acres which
I sold him) are beautiful. The Church too is now what
they call a gem. And the parsonage is very pretty. I
saw various of my people, now getting on in life. It was 40

3o6 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

years the beginning of this year since I became Vicar. Alas,
their memory of me was in some cases stronger than my
mem.ory of them.

' They have a great affection for my mother and sisters —
tho' it is 32 years since they went away. There is a large
Lunatic Asylum — separated, however from the Village by the
railroad — so it is no annoyance — rather it adds green to the
place — nor is the railroad an annoyance, for it is a cutting.
It is 22 years since I was there. I left February 22 — 1846.
I do not expect ever to see it again — nor do I wish it.'

Little is said in this letter of the feelings which overcame
him at the sight of his old home with its sacred memories.
Fortunately there are extant the written impressions of one
who accidentally met him there, which help to fill in the
picture. I owe them to the kindness of Canon Irvine.

' I was passing by the Church at Littlcmore when I
observed a man very poorly dressed leaning over the lych
gate crying. He was to all appearance in great trouble.
He was dressed in an old gray coat with the collar turned up
and his hat pulled down over his face as if he wished to hide
his features. As he turned towards me I thought it was a face
I had seen before. The thought instantly flashed through
my mind it was Dr. Newman. I had never seen him, but
I remember Mr. Crawley had got a photo of Dr. Newman.
' I went and told Mr. Crawley I thought Dr. Newman
was in the village, but he said I must be mistaken, it could
not be. I asked him to let me see the photo, which he
did. I then told him I felt sure it was [he]. Mr. Crawley
wished me to have another look at him. I went and met him
in the churchyard. He was walking with Mr. St. John. I
made bold to ask him if he was not an old friend of
Mr. Crawley's, because if he was I felt sure Mr. Crawley would
be very pleased to see him ; as he was a great invalid and
not able to get out himself, would he please to go and see
Mr. Crawley. He instantly burst out crying and said, " Oh
no, oh no ! " Mr. St. John begged him to go, but he said, " I
cannot." Mr. St. John asked him then to send his name, but
he said " Oh no ! " At last Mr. St. John said, " You may tell
Mr. Crawley Dr. Newman is here." I did so, and Mr. Crawley
sent his compliments, begged him to come and see him,
which' he did and had a long chat with him. After that he
went and saw several of the old people in the village.'

Newman returned to the Oratory that night, and resumed
the little tasks of daily life. Old friends were now passing

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1S67-1868) 207

away, however, and he had it in his mind to pay some visits
which might, he felt, prove visits of farewell to those who
were left. In reply to a letter from Henry VVilberforce in
which he announced the death of an old Oxford friend, he
wrote thus on July 7 :

* It rejoices me to think that you are at last in harbour in
a quiet home and with a pleasant garden. My time is fully
occupied here even with daily matters. Lately I have had
all the Sacristy matters on my hands — have had to analyse
all the details of the work — apportion it among four or five
helps, and write out and post up the duties of each. The
School always takes up time — and now the Orphanage is
becoming in size a second school. And, during the vacation
now coming on us, I must be at home, for everyone else is
going away. When I go to R. W. Church, (I say " R. W." for
did I say to " Church " it would be like Birnam Wood
going to Dunsinane) I hope to take you in my way, if you
will receive me.

' When I saw A. B.'s death in the paper I wrote to Rogers
for some intelligence about it. He wrote to some person
near A. B. From both their letters I could see that they
had no very near sympath}' with his fortunes — and I really
think I lamented him more than any one in his imme-
diate neighbourhood. . . . Alas, alas— perhaps it is that my
sympathy is in vav being old like him, and in going the way
he has gone. " Omnes eodem cogimur," and one's old friends
are falling on every side.'

A little later in the same year another old friend, Sir
John Harding, passed away after a lingering illness.

' I don't suppose I ought to grieve,' Newman wrote to
their common friend, William Froude, ' but I do grieve.
Strange to say either last night or this morning I was
thinking of him in church — I think I said a "Hail Mary"
for him.

' I know it must sadden you, even though it be a relief,
and I can't help sending you a line to say how I sympathise
with you.

' I recollect thinking in chapel, " He was nearly the only
person who was kind to me on my conversion " — (you were
another). I met him in the street in London soon after it.
He stopped me, shook hands with me, and said to me some
very friendly and comforting words. It is the last time I
saw him.'

2o8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Still, in spite of the sad thoughts which the death of his
contemporaries and his own advancing years brought, his
own powers were quite unimpaired, and his interest in the
subjects which had so long absorbed his mind was as keen
as ever. He was conscious that he still had it in him to
help to solve the great problem of the hour (as he viewed
it) — to promote the influence of Catholic Christianity on
modern civilisation. And he felt deeply that the jealous
criticisms of his theological opponents tied his hands.

' Are they not doing the Holy See a grave disservice,' he
wrote in a memorandum dated August 1867, ' who will not
let a zealous mail defend it in his own ivay, but insist on his
doing it in their way or not at all — or rather only at the price
of being considered heterodox or disaffected if his opinions do
not run in a groove ? '

The same thought often reappears in his letters at this
time ; but he submitted to these inevitable limitations, and
he confined himself to work which could, he believed, be
done without incurring the risk of censure. In the summer
of 1866, while in Switzerland, he had begun systematic notes
for the work on Faith and Reason which he had for years
been contemplating. Henceforward he made this his chief
occupation.

It did not directly touch any burning controversy. And
he was satisfied that if he was allowed time and space he
could develop his view without running counter to the best
scholastic thought on the subject ; although a brief treat-
ment must of necessity be open to misrepresentation. Of
the work which resulted, the ' Essay in Aid of a Grammar of
Assent,' which he accounted one of the most important of
his life, we must speak in a separate chapter.

His work, however, was destined not to go forward without
interruptions, and serious ones. The times were stirring.
The destruction of the civil princedom which the Papacy
had held in one form or another for a thousand years was
going forward with ominous thoroughness. And it was
a symbol of the final dethronement of Christian civilisation,
so long imminent, but now on the eve of accomplishment.
The French Revolution had nearly done the work. But there
had been since then the kind of rally in a hopeless ca.sc

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 209

which at times deceives the watchers by a bed of sickness.
The Romantic Movement, the Catholic Revival in France
and Germany, associated with so many great names, had
given Rome new hope. Then, again, the political world had
shown a sense of the value of the Papacy as a principle of
order — an antidote to constant revolutionary movements,
eruptions due to the volcanic element the French Revolu-
tion had left behind it. Not only did the Powers restore the
Pontifical dominions in 1814, but they did so again in 1849.
Now, however, such reactions had ceased. The Papal sove-
reignty was clearly doomed. Napoleon IIL, from whose
support of the Church so much had once been hoped, was
no longer to be relied on. The Powers were, at the present
crisis, with the Sardinians, or, at best, too indifferent to inter-
fere again, as in 1849, on the Pope's behalf. Pius IX., the
reforming Pope of 1846, became the bitter enemy of the
modern movement which meant his overthrow. He con-
tinued year after year to protest indignantly against the
apostasy of Christendom and to denounce the false prin-
ciples of modern ' Liberalism.' The militant party repre-
sented in France by M. Louis Veuillot, the editor of the
Univers, claimed that their view had been justified. They had
been right in proclaiming war on ' Liberalism.' Montalem-
bert and Lacordaire had proved utterly wrong in believing
that the Church could find a modus vivendi with it.

The policy of this determined group of neo-Ultramontanes
became more and more one of extreme centralisation. It had
been opposed from the first by leading French Bishops, In
its first phase, when the editor of the Univers had been
the henchman of Napoleon III., Archbishop Sibour of Paris
had written to Montalembert a weighty letter on the grave
dangers attending the line that journal was advocating. It
was not Ultramontanism in its time-honoured sense, but an
ecclesiastico-political movement practically abrogating the
normal constitution of Church and State alike.

' When you formerly, like ourselves, M. le Comte,' wrote
the Archbishop, ' made loud professions of Ultramontanism
you did not understand things thus. We defended the in-
dependence of the spiritual power against the pretensions and
encroachments of the temporal power, but we respected the
VOL. n. p

2IO I.I IT. 01' CARDINAL NEWMAN

constitution of the State and the constitution of the Church.
We did not do away with all intermediate power, all
hierarchy, all reasonable discussion, all legitimate resistance,
all individuality, all spontaneity. The Pope and the Emperor
were not the one the whole Church and the other the whole
State. Doubtless there are times when the Pope may set
himself above all the rules which are only for ordinary times,
and when his power is as extensive as the necessities of the
Church. The old Ultramontanes kept this in mind, but they
did not make of the exception a rule. The new Ultramon-
tanes have pushed everything to extremes, and have abounded
in hostile arguments against all liberties — those of the State
as well as those of the Church. If such systems were not
calculated to compromise the most serious religious interests
at the present time, and especially at a future day, one might
be content with despising them ; but when one has a presenti-
ment of the evils they are preparing for us, it is difficult to
be silent and resigned. You have, therefore, done well, M. le
Comte, to stigmatise them.'

These were the words of a wise prelate written in 1853.
And now the misfortunes of the Papacy and the protests of
Pius IX. gave a fresh impetus to the neo-Ultramontanc
campaign. M. Veuillot and his friends urged that the
Infallibility of the Pontiff should be made an article of faith.
They seemed to conceive of such a definition as a protest
against an apostate world, and a crown of honour for the
persecuted l^ontiff. This way of looking at things was to
be found in England also, and in Germany. Archbishop
Manning told the present writer that he and the Bishop
of Ratisbon, after assisting at the Pontifical Vespers in
St. Peter's Basilica on the Eeast of SS. Peter and Paul in 1867,
as an act of devotion jointly made a vow that they would
not rest until they had secured the great definition which
was to give new glory to Christ's outraged Vicar. And very
many shared such sentiments.

In that very year the Vatican Council was finally deter-
mined on. Pius IX. had first spoken of it shortly after the
appearance of the Syllabus of 1864. It was designed to
discuss and meet the evils of an age of apostasy. Its ap-
proach was formally announced on June 26, 1867, to the
Bishops who were keeping in Rome the eighteenth centenary
of St. Peter's martyrdom. The announcement was a signal for

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867 iS6S) 211

renewed outbursts of militant loyalty. The years 1867, 1868,
and 1869 were years of great controversial stress. Such
men as Mgr. Darboy, who had succeeded Mgr. Sibour as
Archbishop of Paris, and Mgr. Dupanloup, Bishop of Orleans,
were indignant at M. Vcuillot's unceasing attacks on his
fellow-Catholics, whom he accused of * Liberalism,' and on
members of the Episcopate. They were conscious of being
as loyally devoted to the Holy See as M. Veuillot himself
Veuillot claimed the sanction of Pius IX. for his attitude.
But the Bishops denied his contention. He had made the
same claim in 1863 for his denunciations of Montalem-
bert's Malines address, and Montalembert's great friend
Mr. Monsell had found it to be without foundation.
Mr. Monsell had asked Pius IX. himself if the address was
condemned, and the Pope with characteristic bonhomie had
pointed to a copy of the address on his table, and said as
he took his pinch of snuff, ' I have not yet read it, so it
cannot be condemned. For I am the captain of the ship.' '
Dupanloup accused Louis Veuillot of representing his own
narrow and untheological views on the Papal claims and his
own hostility to modern science and all forms of the modern
liberties as necessary conditions of orthodoxy. He published
an Avertissement addressed to Veuillot himself, in which
pain and indignation speak audibly. ' The moment has
come,' he wrote, ' to defend ourselves against you. I raise
then, in my turn, my voice ... I charge you with usurpa-
tions on the Episcopate, with perpetual intrusion in the most
delicate matters, I charge you above all with your excesses
in doctrine, your deplorable taste for irritating questions,
and for violent and dangerous solutions. I charge you with
accusing, insulting, and calumniating your brethren in the
Faith. None have merited more than you that severe word
of the Sacred Books, — " Accusator fratrum." Above all I
reproach you with making the Church participate in your
violences, by giving as its doctrines, with rare audacity {par
line rare ajidace), your most personal ideas.'

M. Veuillot, who was in no sense a trained theologian,
had used language in the Univers which must be recalled, as
it is otherwise quite impossible to understand either the

' This anecdote was related to the present writer by Mr. Monsell himself.

r 2

212 T.IFR OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

strenuous opposition of men like Archbishop Sibour, Mont-
alembert, Newman, and Dupanloup, or the extraordinary
exaggerations still current among men of the world as to
the meaning of the dogma of Infallibility. In defiance of
the common-place of theology that the protection of the
Pope from error in formal definitions is not ' Inspiration,'
but only Providential ' assistance,' and that the ordinary
means used by the Pope in forming his judgments are,
correlatively, the regular scientific processes of theology
and consultation with the Episcopate, whether in Council or
otherwise, he boldly used the following words in a pam-
phlet called 'L'illusion Liberale': 'We all know certainly
only one thing, that is that no man knows anything ex-
cept the Man with whom God is for ever, the Man who
carries the thought of God. We must . , . unswervingly
follow his inspired directions ' {ses directions inspirees).
Pursuing this same line the Univers laughed at the
Correspondant for dwelling on the careful and prolonged
discussions which were in point of fact so marked a feature
in the Vatican Council. 'The Correspondant 'Wdi.nl's, them
to discuss,' wrote Veuillot, ' and wishes the Holy Ghost to
take time in forming an opinion. It has a hundred argu-
ments to prove how much time for reflection is indispensable
to the Holy Ghost.'

In October 1869 the Univers printed in a hymn addressed
to Pius IX. words almost identical with those addressed by
the Church to the Holy Ghost on Whitsunday :

' Pater pauperum,
Dator munerum,
Lumen cordium,
Emitte coelitus
Lucis tuae radium.'

In the following month came a version of the hymn
beginning

' Rerum Deus tenax vigor,'

with the word 'Pius' substituted for 'Deus' {Univers,
October 21 and 28 and November 8).

W. G. Ward was carrying on in the Dublin Rcviciv a
more carefully reasoned exposition of the new Ultramon-
tanism, maintaining the frequency and wide scope of infallible

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 213

utterances. While theoretically recognising the theological
distinctions which Veuillot neglected, his practical conclusion
as to the significance of the constant Briefs, Allocutions,
and Encyclicals of the existing Pontificate was (to use his
own words) that 'in a figurative sense Pius IX. may be said
never to have ceased from one continuous ex Cathedra
pronouncement.' ^

W. G. Ward was, moreover, an active talker. ' I should
like a new Papal Bull every morning with my Times at
breakfast,' was one of his sayings which gained currency as
literally meant. His articles in the Dublin were, as I have
already said, republished in a volume in 1866.

Newman followed the utterances of the Univers and
the Dublin alike with profound and ever-deepening distress.
His distress was the greater because of the noble elements
in the Ultramontane movement, which were, he considered,
being disfigured by exaggeration and party spirit. He had
himself ever been an Ultramontane in the sense that
Mgr. Sibour and Montalembert were Ultramontanes.
He had held that the Pontiff's definitions of faith were
infallible. But he felt deeply, as did Mgr. Dupanloup,
the unchristian animosity displayed by M. Veuillot in the
name of Ultramontanism against such admirable Catholics
as Montalembert and his friends of the Correspondant. From
W. G. Ward's writings personal animosity was absent. But
his extreme theories touched more closely Newman's own
field of action in England. And the blending of what
Nev/man felt to be valuable with what he felt to be impossible
to hold, in the face of obvious historical facts and recognised
theological principles, was even more marked in the case
of the English writer. To follow the lead of Pius IX.
with loyalty was one thing. To commit Catholic theo-
logians to an entirely new view (as Newman considered)
ascribing infallibility to a Pope's public utterances which
were not definitions of faith or morals was quite another
matter. The immense value, for the effectiveness of Catholi-
cism as a power in the world, of a hearty union of Catholics
under the Pope as their general in the war waged by the
new age against the Church, had been impressed upon the

' Essays on the Chunk's Doctrinal Authority ^ p. 510.

214 ^'^^'^^ 01'^ CARDINAL NEWMAN

Catholics of the nineteenth century by de Maistre in his great
work ' Du Pape.' The gradual extinction of Gallicanism
was the result of a movement which had in it very valuable
elements. It was a simple and inspiring programme to listen
to the voice of the reigning Pontiff as ever witnessing to the
unerring faith of Peter. No one felt all this in his heart
more deeply than did Newman. His whole sympathy was
ever with obedience and loyalty. But he could not shut
his eyes to the terrible revenges which time would bring on
an attempt to identify the Catholic faith with views which
ignored patent facts of history, including the human defects
of Popes themselves, visible at times even in their official
pronouncements. He could not forget such Popes as
Liberius and Honorius. The action of these Pontiffs could,
no doubt, in his opinion, be defended as consistent with
Papal Infallibility, but only by those careful distinctions as
to what official utterances were and were not infallible which
were now branded as ' Liberalism ' by Veuillot, as ' minimism '
by W. G. Ward. Had the faithful at large felt bound, under
pain of mortal sin or disloyalty to the Church, to be guided
by the famous official letter of Pope Honorius to the
Patriarch Sergius which encouraged the Monothelite heresy,
they would have fallen under the censure of Popes Agatho
and Leo II., who anathematised Pope Honorius for that very
letter. Had the letter been accepted as the teaching of the
Church, had a critical examination of its exact authority
been treated as disloyal, the Catholic Communion might
have become largely Monothelite. Even as it was, the letter
proved, in the words of a distinguished theologian, 'a
tower of strength ' to heretics until it had, later on, been
authoritatively declared by Rome itself to be no embodi-
ment of her Apostolic tradition.^ Meanwhile the orthodox
had resolutely to oppose the Pope's verdict. * Though
a Pope do all that Honorius did,' Newman had to insist
in repl>ing to a letter from Dr. Pusey, in which current
Ultramontane excesses were treated as Catholic doctrine,
'he is not speaking infallibly.' All this was practically
ignored by M. Vcuillot.-'

' Dublin Rroievo, No. 280, p. 70.

• Mr. Ward dealt willi the Honorius question cvdilually, see p. 237.

PAPAL INFALLIIJILITY (1867-1868) 215

Able historians such as Lord Acton, whose attitude
towards the Papacy was hostile, noted in triumph the un-
historical impossibilities which were being advanced as in-
dispensable to whole-hearted orthodoxy. Yet the trend of
events, the war of modern civilisation on the Church, the
iniquitous spoliation of the Holy See, had in fact made
loyalty so hot and undiscriminating, as in some quarters
to put the interests of intellectual accuracy and^ candour in
these matters almost out of sight. This temper of mind
was prevalent within the memory of many of us. To qualify
and distinguish as to the claims of the Holy Father's
official utterances on our mental allegiance, seemed to many
Catholics at that moment to be unworthy and half-hearted,

Newman had, then, the most painful and thankless work
before him, of pointing out the dangers of a movement which
was inspired largely by devotion to Rome ; thus seeming, to
those who were blind to the real peril of the situation, to side
to some extent with the cold and persecuting world, and
with half-hearted Catholics who were really disaffected and
disloyal ; to be, in his jealous protection of the interests of
theological truth, guilty of intellectualism or intellectual
pride.

Scrupulously anxious to keep his action within such
limits as would secure its being, so far as it went, effectual,
Newman took two significant steps — one in 1867, the other in
1868. It was characteristic of him that he carefully confined
himself to English controversies — which came in the direct
path of his own duty. And in each case, what he ultimately
did was less than what he first planned. He had planned, as
we have seen, to write in 1S66 on Papal Infallibility in answer
to W. G. Ward. He ended by encouraging Father Ignatius
Ryder to write in 1867, and doing his best to support him by
the weight of his name and by his acknowledged sympathy.
In 1868 he encouraged Mr. Peter Ic Page Renouf to write on
the Honorius case with a view to showing the difficulties it
raised in connection v/ith the doctrine of Papal Infallibility.
He proposed to make Renouf's pamphlet an excuse for
writing himself on the subject, but in the end only did his
best privately to urge the importance of the question being
fully ventilated.

2j6 life of cardinal NEWMAN

In connection with Father Ryder's pamphlet there were
two points which he was specially desirous of emphasising.
The first (referred to in a letter to Ryder himself) was the
degree of freedom which a Catholic might lawfully claim
for his internal belief except when that freedom was
barred by a definition of faith. He claimed freedom to
differ from the generally received view, not universally,
but in this or that case where the individual had access
to urgent reasons for so doing. The second point was
the necessity that the doctrinal effect of each fresh official
Papal utterance should be interpreted not by the private
judgment of the ordinary reader exercised on the text of the
particular utterance alone, but by the gradual sifting of theo-
logical experts whose business it is to determine the authority
of the fresh utterance and to collate it with other loci theo-
logici. He believed that such scientific thoroughness gave
far greater liberty of opinion to Catholics than Mr. Ward
allowed them. His anxiety seems to have been, in view of
possible future discoveries in science and criticism, to make
it clear that the road was not finally barred to such recon-
sideration of some received views as might eventually prove
necessary, but at the same time to leave the presumption
on the side of what was generally accepted.

This line of thought was expressed in the first instance
in the course of a correspondence with Pusey. Pusey
treated Newman's repudiation of the excesses of Ward
and Faber as an assertion of that principle of ' minimism '
which W. G. Ward was constantly denouncing. Newman
repudiated the charge. How hearty and thorough was
Newman's own obedience to the Papacy, how ungrudging
his recognition of the wide sphere of its authority, is ap-
parent in two remarkable letters to Pusey written in response
to a request from Bishop P'orbes of Brechin for further
information.'

' It may be pointed out tlial Newman analyses in these letters, in tlie lieltl of
<logma, a principle which is more popularly recotjnised in the field of morals —
that ' e.\trinsic ' probability, that is the cotnciisiis of competent theologians as to a
particular conclusion, holds the field in the first instance, and claims our allegiance
priiiKl facie ; yet, in the case of those competent to weigh the pros and cons in a
special case, the 'intrinsic' jirobability, that is the value of the actual reasons
alleged, may lawfully be estimated and acted on by the individual, in opposition

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 217

'The Oratory : March 22nd, 1S67.

* My dear Pusey, — I understand that you and Bishop
Forbes (who I hope will allow me to answer him through
you) ask simply the question of fact, what is held and must
be held by members of our communion about the powers of
the Pope.

' Any categorical answer would be unsatisfactory — but
if I must so speak, I should say that his jurisdiction, (for
that I conceive you to mean by "powers") is unlimited and
despotic. And I think this is the general opinion among us.
I am not a deep theologian, — but, as far as I understand the
question, it is my own opinion. There is nothing which any
other authority in the Church can do, which he cannot do at
once — and he can do things which they cannot do, such as
destroy a whole hierarchy, as well as create one. As to the
question of property, whether he could simply confiscate the
funds of a whole diocese, I do not know — but I suspect he
can. Speaking generally, I think he can do anything, but
break the divine law.

' If you will have a categorical answer, this is it — and
I do not see how I can modify it. But such a jurisdiction
is (i) not so much a practice as a doctrine — and (2) not so
much a doctrifie as a principle of our system. Now I will
attempt at the risk of making a very long matter of it, to
explain what I mean.

' I. It must not be supposed that the Pope does or can
exercise at will or any moment those powers that he has.
You know the story of the King of Spain who was scorched
to death because the right officer was not at hand to wheel
his chair from the fire — and so practically the Pope's juris-
diction requires a great effort to put it into motion. Pius VII.
swept away a good part of the French hierarchy, but this is
not an act of every day. Two things happened while we

to a generally accepted view. The peculiarity of speculative dogmatic theology,
as distinguished from moral theology, is of course this— that new scientific dis-
coveries or probabilities on its borderland may create a new intrinsic probability,
and such scientific probabilities are at first only appreciated by a few. This fact
he illustrates by the far-reaching though well-w orn facts of the Galileo case, in its
bearing on the conclusions of the theologians of the Inquisition who censured his
views as heretical. In moral theology the premisses of a received conclusion have
no such changing element, for they consist solely in the nature of the case hypo-
thetically stated. In the mixed problems of theology and historical criticism it is
otherwise. Their conclusions rest on premisses partly supplied by the ordinary
toci theologici and partly by the data of an advancing science. Moreover, such
new data not only affect ' intrinsic ' probability for those who know them, but
destroy extrinsic probability for conclusions drawn before they were known.

2i8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

were at Rome to illustrate what I mean. The Pope gave us
the Oratory of Malta, and this, mind, not by any claim of
general jurisdiction over the Oratory and other religious
bodies, which are his own creation. We were talking of
taking possession, (not that we had ever really made up our
minds) when an experienced Jesuit at Propaganda said to
us : " It is your interest to go to the Bishop of Malta. It is
all very fine your having the Oratory there as a present from
the Pope, but you will find, when you get there, that, in spite
of the Pope's act, the Bishop is the greater man of the two."
And since then I have always been struck with the great
power of Bishops in their respective dioceses, even in England
where (as being under Propaganda) they have not the power
they possess in Catholic countries. Indeed, one of the great
causes of the bad state of things in Italy is (I do believe)
because the Pope cannot effect reforms in particular dioceses
from the traditional usages and the personal resistance of
Bishops and clergy. And again as to Rome, they say the
Pope has practically hardly any power at all in his own city.
The second instance which came before us when we were in
Rome was this : — the Pope told the Jesuit Father that he
had appointed Dr. Wiseman Vicar /Vpostolic of London.
It got about Rome, and at length was told by a lady in all
simplicity to Cardinal Fransoni, Prefect of the Sacred Con-
gregation of Propaganda. He at once drew up and abruptly
denied there was an appointment. He said the appoint-
ment belonged to Propaganda, to him, and the Pope could
not interfere — and the Pope was obliged to gi\e way — and
Dr. Walsh was appointed instead. His abstract power
is not a practical fact.

' 3. And now secondly I observe that it is not so much
even an abstract doctrine as it is a principle ; by which
I mean something far more subtle and intimately con-
nected with our system itself than a doctrine, so as not
to be contained in the written law, but to be, like the
common law of the land, or rather the principles of the
Constitution, contained in the very idea of our being what
we are.

' I hope you will let me go a good way back to show this,
though 1 fear you may think me dissertating ; but it will lead
me to remark on a previous question to the one you ask me,
and which I really ought to handle, lest in answering your
question at all, I lead you to think I am able to follow )-ou
in a view of it which I cannot take.

' I must then deli\er a sort of Sermon against Minimism
and Minimists.

I'APAf. INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 219

' The words then of Councils, &c., on the subject of the
Pope's powers are (to a certain degree) vague, as you say,
and indefinite ; even for this reason, viz. — from the strong
rekictance which has ever been felt, to restrict the liberty
of thinking and judging more than was absolutely necessary,
as a matter of sacred duty, in order to the maintenance
of the revealed dcpositiun. It has always been trusted that
the received belief of the faithful and the obligations of piety
would cover a larger circuit of doctrinal matter than was
formally claimed, and secure a more generous faith than was
imperative on the conscience. Hence there has never been
a wish on the part of the Church to cut clean between
doctrine revealed and doctrine not revealed ; first indeed,
because she actually cannot do so at any given moment, but
is illuminated from time to time as to what was revealed
in the beginning on this or that portion of the whole mass
of teaching which is now received ; but secondly, because
for that verj/ reason she would be misrepresenting the real
character of the dispensation, as God has given it, and would
be abdicating her function, and misleading her children into
the notion that she was something obsolete and passe\
considered as a divine oracle, and would be transferring
their faith from resting on herself as the organ of revelation
(and in some sense impropric) as its formal object, simply
to a code of certain definite articles or a written creed (or
material object) if she authoritatively said that so much, and
no more, is " de fide Catholica " and binding on our inward
assent. Accordingly, the act of faith, as we consider, must
now be partly explicit, partly implicit ; viz. " I believe what-
ever has been and whatever shall be defined as revelation
by the Church who is the origin of revelation " ; or again,
" I believe in the Church's teaching, whether explicit or
implicit," i.e. " Ecclesiae docenti et explicite et implicite."
This rule applies both to learned and to ignorant ; for, as
the ignorant, who does not understand theological terms,
must say, " I believe the Athanasian Creed in that sen.se
in which the Church puts it forward," or, " I believe that the
Church is veracious," so the learned, though they do under-
stand the theological wording of that Creed, and can say
intelligently what the ignorant cannot say, viz. " I believe
that there are Three Aeterni, and one Aetenius" still have
need to add, " I believe it because the Church has declared
it," and, " I believe all that the Church has defined or shall
define as revealed," and " I absolutely submit my mind with
an inward assent to the Church, as the teacher of the whole
faith."

220 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Accordingly the use of such books as Veron's and
Chi'issman's (which contain that " Minimum " which Dr. Forbes
asks about) is mainly to ascertain the matter of fact, viz. what
at present is defined by the Church as "de fide " ; and with
whatever difference in the way of putting it, they would not
deny that it is in the power of the Church to define points
hitherto open, and that the faithful are bound to accept these
with an inward assent when they are defined.

' But post time has come, — and perhaps I ought to let it
bring what I have to say to an end — yet, if you will let me,
I should like to run out what I have begun — though it will
give you trouble to read.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

' The Oratory, Birmingham : March 23rd, 1867.

' My dear Pusey, — I do hope you will not think I am
preaching — but to answer you, without showing you that the
answer is given from a different basis from that on which the
question is asked, would be to mislead you and the Bishop —
it would in fact be an equivocation — for " Minimism " in my
mouth does not mean the same thing as in yours.

' I ended yesterday by saying that such writers as Veron
and Chrissman and Denzinger, in laying down what was " de
fide," never pretended to exclude the principle that it was " de
fide " because the Church taught it as such, and that she could
teach other things as " de fide " by the same right as she
taught what she now teaches as such. This is our broad
principle, held by all of whatever shade of theological
opinion. While it would be illogical not to give an inward
assent to what she has already declared to be revealed, so it
is pious and religious to believe, or at least not to doubt,
what, though in fact not defined, still it \s probable she might
define as revealed, or that she %uill define, or seems to consider
to be revealed.

' To illustrate the difference between simply faith and
religiousness : — it is as great a sin against faith to deny that
there is a Purgatory as to deny that there is the Beatific
Vision ; but it is a sin against religiousness as well as
against faith to deny the latter. And so, as to the Church's
teaching about the Holy See, before the Council of Florence,
about which you ask (supposing the following point was not
already defined, which I do not know), it might be pious to
believe, and a defect in piety (in educated men) not to believe
that the Pope was " totius Ecclesiae Doctor," because it was
clear the Church held it, and probable that she might and

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 221

would define it ; and it is this spirit of piety which holds
toerether the whole Church. We embrace and believe what
we find universally received, till a question arises about any
particular point. Thus, as to our Lord's perfect knowledge
in His Human Nature, we might always have admitted it
without a question through piety to the general voice — then,
when the controversy arose, we might ask ourselves if it had
been defined, examine the question for ourselves and end
the examination by (wrongly but allowably) doubting of it ;
but then when the definition was published in its favour, we
should submit our minds to the obedience of faith. So again
Galileo, stipposhig he began (I have no reason for implying
or thinking he did, but supposing he began) with doubting
the received doctrine about the centrality of the earth, I
think he would have been defective in religiousness ; but not
defective in faith, (unless indeed by chance he erroneously
thought that the centrality had been defined). On the other
hand, when he saw good reasons for doubting it, it was very
fair to ask, and implied no irreligiousness, — " After all, is it
defined ? " and then, on inquiry, he would have found his
liberty of thought " in possession," and would both by right
and with piety doubt of the earth's centrality.

' Applying this principle to the Pope's Infallibility, (N.B.
this of course is mine own opinion only, meo periculo)
a man will find it a religious duty to believe it or may safely
disbelieve it, in proportion as he thinks it probable or im-
probable that the Church might or will define it, or does hold
it, and that it is the doctrine of the Apostles. For myself,
(still to illustrate what I mean, not as arguing) I think that
the Church may define it (i.e. it possibly may turn out to
belong to the original dcposituni), but that she will not ever
define it ; and again I do not see that she can be said to hold
it. She never can simply act upon it, (being undefined, as it
is) and I believe never has ; — moreover, on the other hand,
I think there is a good deal of evidence, on the very surface
of history and the Fathers in its favour. On the whole then
I hold it ; but I should account it no sin if, on the grounds
of reason, I doubted it.

' I have made this long talk by way of protest against the
principle of the " Minimum " which both you and Dr. Forbes
.stand upon, and which we never can accept as a principle, or
as a basis of an Eirenicon. It seems to us false, and we must
ever hold, on the contrary, that the object of faith is not
simply certain articles, A. B. C. D. contained in dumb docu-
ments, but the whole word of God, explicit, and implicit, as

222 l.IKI- OK CARDINAI. NEWMAN

dispensed by His livinfr Church. On this point I am sure
there can be no iM'rcnicon ; for it inarks a fundamental, ele-
mentary difference between the Anpjh'can view and ours,
and ever)' attempt to bridge it over uill but be met in the
keen and stern temper of Cardinal Patrizzi's letter.^

' Nor is the point which is the direct subject of your
question much or at all less an elementary difference of
principle between us ; viz. the Pope's jurisdiction : — it is a
difference of principle e\cn more than of doctrine. That
that jurisdiction is universal is involved in the very idea
of a Pope at all. I can easily understand that it was only
partially apprehended in the early ages of the Church, and
that, as Judah in the Old Covenant was not duly recog-
nised and obeyed as the ruling tribe except gradually, so
St. Cyprian or St. Augustine in Africa (if so) or St. Basil in
Asia Minor (if so) ma}' have fretted under the imperiousness
of Rome, and not found a means of resignation in their
trouble ready at hand in a clear view (which they had not)
that Rome was one of the powers that be, which are ordained
of God. It required time for Christians to enter into the
full truth, so as always on all points to think and act aright ;
and in saying this, I do not mean to admit the force of
Mr. Bright's historical arguments against our view of the
matter ;- but I admit them for argument's sake, and am ap-
pealing to the nature and necessity of the case, and to the
common -sense view of the case. For to this day a dormant
jurisdiction is far from uncommon among us. Bishops for
some reason or other allow priests sometimes to go on their
own way, and to act by usage in certain things, as if they (the
priests) had power of their own ; and then some new Bishop
comes perhaps, like a new broom, and pulls them up sharply,
and shows that such usage was mere matter of allowance ;
and the priests for a time resist through ignorance. And
parallel interpretations may be given mutatis mutandis
even to the acts of Councils, taking those acts on our
opponents' showing. Putting aside then, as in our feeling it
may be put aside, the historical question, our feeling as a
fact (for so alone I am speaking of it) is this : — that there is
no use in a Pope at all, except to bind the whole of
Christendom into one polity ; and that to ask us to give
up his universal jurisdiction is to invite us to commit
suicide. To do so is not the act of an Eirenicon. . . .
" Dissolutionem facis, pacem appellas ! " Whatever be the
extent of '' State rights," some jurisdiction the President

' On the A.P.U.C.

PAPAL INKALIJUILITV (1867-1S68) 223

must have over the American Union, as a whole, if he is to
be of any use or meanin;^ at all. He cannot be a mere
Patriarch of the Yankees, or Exarch of the West country
squatters, or " primus inter pares " with the Governors of
Kentucky and Vermont An honorary head, call him
primate or premier duke, does not affect the real force or
enter into the essence of a political body, and it is not worth
contending about. We do not want a man of straw, but a
bond of unity.

' This shows that, as a matter of principle, the Pope must
have universal jurisdiction ; and then comes the question to
what extent ? Now the Church is a Church Militant, and,
as the commander of an army is despotic, so must the
visible head of the Church be ; and therefore in its idea the
Pope's jurisdiction can hardly be limited.

' I am not arguing with antecedent arguments ; I am
accounting for a fact. It is Whately's " a " not " A." I
have proposed to draw out the facts as a matter of principle,
not of doctrine. Doctrine is the voice of a religious body ;
its principles are of its substance. The principles may be
turned into doctrines by being defined ; but they live as
necessities before definition, and are the less likely to be
defined, because they are so essential to life.

' I end by again apologising for so long a letter ; but
I could not answer you in any other way ; and perhaps you
will say I have not answered you at all.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

Having thus unreservedly defended the fullest extent of
the Pope's jurisdiction as well as the pietas fidei against the
'minimisers' of whom Pusey would fain have extracted
from him some approval or countenance, Newman was in a
position with a safe conscience to send him a month later
Father Ryder's criticism on W\ G. Ward's attempt to make
almost equally unrestricted the binding force of Papal utter-
ances on the thoughts of Catholics as well as on their actions.
He enclosed with the pamphlet the following letter :

• The Orator}-. Einningham : May 1st, 1867.

' My dear Pusey, — I send you a pamphlet by this post,

not that you will agree with it, but because you may like to
know what men of moderate opinion amongst us at this day
hold. In substance I agree with it. The extreme view fof
laxity) is Muratori's.

224 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' The subject is the province of ecclesiastical infallibility.
* With best Easter wishes,
'I am,

Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

To W. G. Ward himself he had written on the previous

day :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : April 30lh, 1867.

' My dear Ward, — I send you by this post Fr. Ryder's
pamphlet in criticism of some theological views of yours.
Though I frankly own that in substance I agree with it
heartily, it was written simply and entirely on his own idea,
without any suggestion (as far as I know) from anyone here
or elsewhere, and on his own choice of topics, his own reading,
and his own mode of composition.

' I think he is but a specimen of a number of young
Catholics who have a right to an opinion on the momentous
subject in question, and who feel keenly thatj'ou are desirous
to rule views of doctrine to be vital which the Church does
not call or consider vital. And certainly, without any un-
kindness towards you, or any thought whatever that you
have been at all wanting in kindness to me personally, I
rejoice in believing that, now that my own time is drawing to
an end, the new generation will not forget the spirit of the
old maxim in which I have ever wished to speak and act
myself: " In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus
charitas."

' Yours affectly. in Xt.,

John H. Nb:wman.'

Father Ryder's pamphlet was entitled ' Idealism in Theo-
logy.' It was a very brilliant and witty piece of writing. Its
motto on the title-page was taken from ' Timon of Athens ' :
' The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the ex-
tremity of both ends.' He traces W. G. Ward's extremes on
the side of authority to those very extremes on the side of
scepticism which were to him the alternative ; — to the cast of
mind which made him a sympathetic reader of the works of
J. S. Mill. The reaction from one extreme led to another.
A watertight compartment for faith, sealed by authority, in
which all religious beliefs should be safely locked up, was the
alternative to scepticism. Falling back upon Ward's ' Ideal
of a Christian Church ' as the truest representation of his

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (i 867-1868) 225

mind and method, Ryder traces his theory of InfaHibih'ty to
his passion for ideal completeness. He regards it as a theory
based on a priori needs, and constructed without any
adequate regard to the caution of true theology or the facts
of history. Moreover, as Papal utterances were now becoming
so numerous, to intimate that the Pope could scarcely speak
publicly without speaking infallibly was, as Ryder maintains
in a witty passage, to ascribe to him a gift ' like that of Midas's
touch of gold,' very wonderful, but very inconvenient.

W. G. Ward, so Ryder maintained, imposed as obligatory
upon all Catholics, under pain of mortal sin, deductions of his
own which were not shared by many theologians of weight,

Ryder further protested against the damaging assumption
that the theological moderation which comes of thought
and wide reading implies a lower level of loyalty to the
Church and Holy See than an unthinking acceptance of
extreme claims on their behalf. To flatter the authorities by
exaggerating their powers, as Canute's courtiers flattered
him, was not to be specially loyal ; still less was such an
attitude desirable, if it involved assertions which prevented
effective reply to the charges of extravagance brought
against Catholic doctrine by its critics. Moderation due
to a perception of real difficulties was not lukewarmness.
Sir Thomas More was at once a hero and a moderate.
Moderate Catholics were often stigmatised as ' Gallicans ' ;
but Ryder, in a passage full of dignity, justifies their position
as often implying deeper loyalty than that of extremists,
although their views may differ from those of the ' Roman
party.' And when extremists urged that to accept the
prevailing view of the time is the course marked out by
' Catholic instincts,' they needed to be reminded of the
changes time had wrought in the views prevailing in different
epochs — for instance, de Lugo records the fact that nearly all
theologians at one time denied the Immaculate Conception.

Three points noted by Ryder, as instances of excessive
claims advanced on behalf of the Papacy by Mr. Ward,
were: (i) the claim that the Pope's doctrinal instructions in
Encyclicals were infallible ; (2) the claim that the Holy
See by its philosophical condemnations helps directly in
determining philosophical truth as such ; and (3) the claim for

VOL. II. Q

226 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

interior assent on the part of men of science to the decrees of
the Roman Congregations admitted not to be infallible.

On the first point, Ryder cites great theologians, as
Ballerini, Amort, Capellari (afterwards Gregory XV L), as to
the careful tests which are necessary to determine what a
Pope does define ex cathedra. He notes also that the
doctrinal instructions of Encyclical Letters are never used by
classical theologians as decisive. He quotes Father Tanner,
the Jesuit, as invoking the general opinion of the faithful
and of theologians, in order to determine precisely what is
authoritatively determined in such documents.

On the second point, Ryder held that censures passed by
Rome on philosophical writings merely prove the censured
system to have on some point run counter to orthodox
theology.'

' ' The Church, in her philosophical condemnations,' he writes, * cares nothing
for philosophical truth as such. She represents a higher interest, to which every
other must give way. Two rival systems of philosophy are struggling for pre-
eminence. The one ihat is the truest, the one that bears within it the true germ
of all philosophic growth and movement, and which is one day to prevail — from the
very fact that it is living, and not mechanical — is the more open to dangerous error,
in that portion of the intellectual field which philosophy and theology have in com-
mon. Although its chariot wheel does but graze the car upon which the Church sits
enthroned ; although its theological error is so slighc viewed as men view it, and the
philosophic truth it carries so great and so important ; yet the erring wheel is broken
and the chariot overthrown; while the rival system, shallow and safe, glides
smoothly on upon the other side, triumi)hant. What matters it to the Church, that
the hopes of philosophy are for the time checked ! Her office is to preserve, at
any cost, each particle of religious truth entrusted to her. Between her truth and
other truth, so far as it is truth, God, in his own good time, will effect reconcilia-
tion, giving to each its complement. Even as regards her own theology it has been
remarked that ihe Church has fre(]uently smitten the forerunners and heralds of a
new development of dogma or discipline, men of keen minds, with the genius of
anticipation, but whose zeal was not according to knowledge ; and who, in their
impatient worship of the new, forgot their reverence for the old. And some of
these have wholly fallen away and become heretics, leaving the work for which
they were not worthy to other hands. .So cautious ever is the Church, so jealous of
the wild intellect of man, which she addresses with blows ratlier than with words.
.She will net condescend to argue or to explain ; she will not clotheherself with the
philosopher's pallium ; or, if she does, it straightway becomes a cope broidercd
with mystic characters, whicli has a new significance, of which the old was but a
type and shadow.

' I am not saying that the philosopher can never gain anything from his con-
demnations ; and that, not merely as a man with a supernatural end identical with
that of the Church, but even (jtia philosopheY. But he must have nerve enough
to set himself to analyse precisely the extent of the Church's condemnation, so as
to preserve his original system, to the full extent that the Church will allow him.

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 227

Such a warning, however emphatic, could not be said
to be tantamount to imparting important positive truth.

* Let me take an example,' Fr. Ryder wrote. ' A boy
has a long sum to do ; when finished, as he thinks, he takes
it up to his master ; it is wrong, he receives a tremendous cut
across the shoulders, and his slate is thrown at his head.
Now would it not be rather hyperbolical — nay, would it not
be simply untrue, even if the sum represented the whole of
arithmetic — to say that a vast mass of arithmetical truth had
been taught ? '

Mr. Ward's exhortation to men of science to assent
interiorly to the decisions of the Roman Congregations,
though he admitted that the further advance of science
might eventually prove Rome to have been mistaken, is
rejected by Father Ryder in the following words :

* What sort of an internal assent would that be which
could co-exist with the feeling, that, though the Church was
right, they must really see whether she was not wrong? If,
on the other hand, their interior assent was firm, and their
doubt purely methodical, imagine the shock to the poor
orthodox men of science, when they should find the Church
wrong after all ; either reason or faith must give way.' ^

But indeed the fundamental assumption of Mr. Ward's
reasoning, that what is desirable for the effective preservation

If, however, he falls into the mistake of supposing that the Church is teaching
philosophy, the danger will be, that, if a good Catholic, he will throw himself
into the opposite system, and so embrace a vast mass of tenets which, whilst
theologically safe, are, some of them, philosophically false.

' As to the condemnations of Hermes and Gunther by the Congregations of
the Inquisition and Index, I have no doubt that they were in all respects true
and just. I simply do not know whether they were infallible. Pius IX. in the
" Eximiam,"does indeed characterize the decree of the Index condemning Gunther
as ^^ Decrettmi nostra aucfoH/ate sancitum, nostfoque jjissn vufgatutn^^ ; but the
decree of the Index condemning Copernicanism as contrary to Sa-ipttire, is quali-
fied by Bellarmine, Fromond, and you, as '■'■ a Declaration of His Holiness" ix
decree '■^examined, ratified, authorized by the Pope,'''' and, by you at least, as
"doctrinal." I would submit, although with great deference, as knowing very
little of the subject, whether the immediate scope of the decrees of the Roman
Congregations is not always rather disciplinary than doctrinal, and the doctrinal
statements are not, however solemn and important, still technically preambles and
obiter dicta. If so, the Pope's identifying himself with the decree would not
alter its essential character.'

' On the other hand it must not be forgotten that Dr. Ryder, like Newman
himself, maintained that the pietas fidei should prompt to internal submission
beyond the sphere covered by strictly infallii)le decisions of Rome.

n 2

2 38 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

of the Faith is, therefore, true, is attacked by Father Ryder.
It is, he holds, this utilitarian method which leads him to
conclusions which theologians whose methods are more
historical have rejected. In treating this point in his first
pamphlet Ryder falls back on the tone of banter to which
his unfailing sense of humour constantly tempted him.

' After taunting his opponents with their unwillingness
to meet him Mr. Ward proceeds in a masterful and lion-
taming manner to pin the reluctant but yielding monsters, as
he thinks, in a corner, in this wise, — Has not the Church her
gift of infallibility in order to maintain the deposituin? Yes.
Can you deny that certain philosophical tenets logically, and
certain others practically, lead to heresy? No. Must not
the Church have power to expel such errors from the minds
of believers, if she is to maintain the deposittnn} Yes. Can
she expel such errors unless she can certainly decide which
these are ? No. Triumphant conclusion : Then the Church
is infallible in all condemnations of such tenets as erroneous
and unsound ! Howls of baffled rage from the minimizing
Catholics. . . .

' I will, with Dr. Ward's leave, substitute for the above,
the following : — If the Church cannot expel from the minds of
the faithful the tenet that the Pope and many of the Bishops
are actuated by ambition and other unworthy motives, which
tenet has certainly in many cases led, not logically, God
forbid ! but practically, to both schism and heresy, she can-
not securely guard the depositum ; but she could only expel
such a tenet, by infallibly declaring such a case to be
impossible : therefore, she may infallibly make such a pro-
nouncement. So much for the elasticity of the a priori
argument'

The net result of Father Ryder's argument was to es-
tablish only this — that Ward's extreme view of the authority
of Papal pronouncements, which was becoming so prevalent,
was not the only orthodox one.

Newman's share in the production of Father Ryder's
first pamphlet is set forth in the following letter to Canon
Walker :

'May II, 1867. . . .

' You arc mistaken, — not indeed in thinking that I sub-
stantially approve of and agree with Fr. Ryder's Pamphlet,
but in treating it as mine. The idea of writing is solely his

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 229

— " Facit indignatio versus." So were the topics, the line of
thought, the illustrations, and the tone and temper. I agree
with your criticism on it — indeed, I had made the same
when I saw it in manuscript. He is ever in deep Devon-
shire lanes — you never know the lie of the country from him
— he never takes his reader up to an eminence, whence he
could make a map of it. This is partly my fault — partly
his, if it is a fault. A fault it certainly is in the coviposition
— but it is not strictly a fault in determining on committing
such a fault of composition. My own share in it is this — that
I thought it was good generalship for various reasons directly
to attack Ward, not in the first place his opinions. I wanted
him to show from Ward's character of mind how untrust-
worthy he was — also I thought he would enlist the feelings
of oppressed and groaning Catholics, if he presented himself
in the character of a young, chivalrous rebel. Then on his
side, since he was proposing, not primarily to teach his
betters theology, but to answer Ward, he felt himself obliged
to follow Ward's lead and to take the very points for
consideration which Ward's publication suggested.

' As to his professing himself, not in any true sense, but
in the sense people sometimes injuriously use the word, a
Gallican, he wished to say what he has said — and I confess
/ have a great impatience at being obliged to trim my lan-
guage by any conventional rule, to purse up my mouth, and
mince my words, because it's the fashion. And as to the
Home and Foreign I detest the persecuting spirit which has
pursued it'

An acute controversy arose on the appearance of Father
Ryder's ' Idealism in Theology.' It raged in the columns of
the Tablet^ and Newman's views were attacked by some of
W. G. Ward's supporters. Mr. Wallis, the editor of the
Tablet^ published an article in support of Father Ryder and
his great chief Newman's letter to Mr. Wallis on the
occasion shows how deeply he felt on the attempt to stifle
the lawful liberty of thought among Catholics :

To Mr. Wallis.

' The Oratory, Birmingham : April 23/1S67.

' My dear Mr. Wallis, — . . . I believe the attack on me on
the part of a clique is, not simply against me as me, but,
on the part of those who are the springs of action in that
cHque, it is made on the principle " Fiat experimentum in

230 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

corpore sanoT I have a clear conscience that, in the works
of mine they profess to criticize, I have said nothing which a
CathoHc might not say, though I am not of their way of
thinking. It then they are strong enough to put down me,
simply on the ground of my not succumbing to the clique,
no one else has a chance of not being put down, and a reign
of terror has begun, a reign of denunciation, secret tribunals,
and moral assassination. The latter part of your article was
directed against this danger — and it rejoiced me to find you
were alive to it. As to the attack on me 1 shall outlive it, as
I have outlived other attacks — but it is not at all easy to
break that formidable conspiracy, which is in action against
the theological liberty of Catholics.

'J. H. N.'

VV. G. Ward's reply to Father Ryder appeared in May.
Newman wrote his impressions of the state of the controversy
to Canon Walker :
•June 5, 1867.

' I agree in what you say about Ward's answer. He picks
out from Fr. Ryder's just what he chooses to answer — says
that, as to the rest, part is irrelevant, and part he will answer
at his leisure, and then goes to work on two theses, only one
of which represents any of the four headings into which
Fr, Ryder divided his pamphlet, and he meets him as re-
gards that one, not with theologians or theological arguments,
but by an arguvientuvi ad vereaindiavi, drawn from the
Pope's words. Fr. Ryder has said " the Pope's words
always need interpretation " — and has given authorities in
proof of this. Ward answers merely by repeating the
Pope's words.

' I thought the end of the Tablet review of both pamphlets
capital, as appealing to the commonsense of the world.
Here is Ward to his "extreme surprise" discovering the
very truth after having been for years a Lecturer in theology,
and now imposing it on all under pain of mortal sin.

' Ward's superiority lies in his clearness, and his skill in
stating what he considers his case.'

The root of the controversy was reached in another letter
from Newman to Canon Walker. W. G. Ward was attempt-
ing to ascribe to the official letters of the actual reigning Pope
an import so clear even to the man in the street, and such
decisive authority, as instantly to oblige internal belief. His
method made light of or dispensed with technical theological

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 231

interpretation by the light of pronouncements of other Popes
and Councils equally authoritative, which might limit the
apparent scope even of what was most weighty. Ward had
proposed to clinch the matters in dispute at once, by asking
the Pope both as to his meaning and his authority in recent
utterances. Newman thus comments on Ward's general
view and on this particular proposal :

'June 17, 1S67.

* As to your question, the definitions &c. of Popes and
Councils are matter of theology. Who could ever guess
ivhat is condemned, what not, in a Thesis Damnata, without
such a work as Viva ? But now, a proposition which the
Pope has animadverted on (he does not seem formally to
have censured any or many in his time) comes to us from
Rome, iiot through Bishops and Theologians, but through
the public prints, in the own correspondence of the Times
(that is where I first saw the Syllabus, and you too.) and
private judgment is to give the proposition and the Pope's
act, its true interpretation. Can anything be more pre-
posterous ? and then, if we remonstrate, we are answered,
" O the words are too plain for interpretation ! " On the
same principle we might say when St. Paul says that
concupiscence is sin, that the words need no interpretation
from theologians. Look through the propositions condemned
in the Bull Unigenitus, and say, if a common man can
understand their point better than many in St. Paul.

' Then, as to " writing to know " ivkether the Pope speaks
ex cathedra, and what he says, surely this is like asking a
Judge out of court to declare the meaning of his decision.
Great authorities cannot be had up again, like witnesses
in a Jury box, to be further questioned or cross examined.
They often do speak again, but in their own time and way.'

Newman's most urgent protest was throughout against
Ward's contention that his view was of obligation for a
Catholic. Such narrowing of the terms of communion
appeared to him fatal to all intellectual life within the
Church, and seemed to reduce the Church Catholic to the
position of a sect. Strongly as he held certain views on
intellectual grounds, it was for freedom among Catholics to
hold them rather than for their truth that he chiefly fought.
W. G. Ward, on the other hand, taking the view that the Pope
himseli desired a full and not a minimistic interpretation,

232 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

and looking on a Catholic writer as bound in loyalty to
second the Pope's wishes, maintained that if a writer thought
it clear that a decree did in the Pope's intention impose a
certain obligation, he was right in saying so, even although
grave theologians thought otherwise. Thus the ultimate
point at which such different lines of policy began to diverge
was that Newman said : " Say if you like ' I think this is the
true interpretation,' but do not impose it on others as
obligatory, if grave theologians think differently " ; while
Ward replied: "If I think it is infallibly true, and part of
the Church's teaching, I think it is obligatory ; and I say so as
the Pope wishes me to. I do not impose it on my own ipse
dixity or assuming any authority, but I give the reasons
which convince me."

Two letters at this time — one to W. G. Ward himself,
and one to Henry Wilberforce — express with some fulness
Newman's state of mind :

'The Oratory, Birmingham: gth May, 1867.

' My dear Ward, — Father Ryder has shown me your
letter in which you speak of me, and though I know that to
remark on what you say will be as ineffectual now in making
you understand me as so many times in the last fifteen years,
yet, at least as a protest iti inemoriam, I will, on occasion of
this letter and of your letter to myself, make a fresh attempt
to explain myself Let me observe then that in former
years, and now, I have considered the theological differences,
between us as unimportant in themselves ; that is, such as to
be simply compatible with a reception both by you and by
me of the whole theological teaching of the Church in the
widest sense of the word teaching ; and again now, and in
former years too, I have considered one phenomenon in you
to be " momentous," nay, portentous, that you will persist in
calling the said unimportant, allowable, inevitable differences,
which must occur between mind and mind, not unimportant,
but of great moment. In this utterly uncatholic, not so
much opinion as feeling and sentiment, you have grown in
the course of years, whereas I consider that I remain myself
in the same temper of forbearance and sobriety which I have
ever wished to cultivate. Years ago you wrote me a letter
in answer to one of mine, in which you made so much of
such natural difference of opinion as exists, that I endorsed
it with the words : " Sec how this man seeketh a quarrel
against me." . . .

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (i 867-1868) 2^^

' Pardon me if I say that you are making a Church within
a Church, as the Novatians of old did within the Catholic
pale, and as, outside the Catholic pale, the Evangelicals of
the Establishment. As they talk of "vital religion" and
" vital doctrines," and will not allow that their brethren
" know the Gospel," or are Gospel preachers, unless they
profess the small shibboleths of their own sect, so you are
doing your best to make a party in the Catholic Church, and
in St. Paul's words are dividing Christ by exalting your
opinions into dogmas. ... I protest then again, not against
your tenets, but against what I must call your schismatical
spirit. I disown your intended praise of me, viz. that I hold
your theological opinions in "the greatest aversion," and I
pray God that I may never denounce, as you do, what the
Church has not denounced. Bear with me.

' Yours affectionately in Christ,

J. H. Newman.'

To Henry Wilberforce he wrote thus in July :

'The Oratory, Birmingham : July 2ist, 1S67

' My dear H. VV., — In all times the debates in the
Schools have been furious, and it is in this way, of the col-
lision of flint and steel, that the light of truth has been
struck and elicited. Controversialists have ever accused each
other of heresy — and at times Popes have interfered, and
put forth Bulls to the effect that, if anyone called another a
heretic out of his own head, he should lie under the censure
of the Church.

' All this is ordinary — what is extraordinary is that the
battle should pass from the Schools (which, alas, are not) to
Newspapers and Reviews, and to lay combatants, with an
appeal to the private judgment of all readers. This is a de-
plorable evil — and from all I have heard Ward has hindered
various people from becoming Catholics by his extreme views,
and I believe is unsettling the minds of I can't tell how many
Catholics. He is free to have his own opinion, but, when he
makes it part of the faith, when he stigmatises those who do
not follow him as bad Catholics, when he saves them only on
the plea of invincible ignorance, when he declines to meet
those Catholics who differ from him and prefers the company
of infidels to theirs, when he withdraws promised subscrip-
tions from- missions on the plea that the new missioner to
whom the money has to be paid has not correct views of
doctrine, when the spontaneous instinct of his mind is rather
that Protestants should not be converted than converted by

234 I'lFI^ OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

certain Catholics who differ from him, what is he (as I have
told him) but a Novatian, making a Church within a Church,
or an Evangelical preacher, deciding that the Gospel is
preached here, and is not there ?

' Why, it destroys our very argument with Anglicans :
" There is nothing but confusion," we say, " in your Church,
you don't know what to believe, — but with us all is clear and
there is no difference of view about the Faith." Now he is
overturning this aboriginal, unanswerable note in favour of
Catholicism, — and its consequences, were others to follow him,
would be tremendous. I say : " Were others to follow him,"
because he is almost alone in such miserable exclusiveness.
The Jesuits, who agree with him, do not insist on their view
as the only allowable view in the Catholic Church. They
say it is the right view — of course they do — everyone thinks
his own view right — but they do not dream of calling every-
one who differ from them material heretics. The only parallel
I can find, like it in its effects, I do not say in its contro-
versial circumstances, is the rise of Arianism. How it must
have perplexed converts when they saw the fury of the
heretical party, and the persistent opposition of the Catholic
believers, the eloquent plausibility of the one, the silence and
perplexity of the other ! how must it have unsettled those
who sought the Church for peace and strength amid secular
commotions like Constantine, or for truth and eternal life as
the young Basil ! It is a comfort to us under our present
sad trial, to be able to believe that, though a novel pheno-
menon in its present shape, still it is not altogether strange
in the history of the Church.

' P^or myself I have never taken any great interest in
the question of the limits and seat of infallibility. I was
converted simply because the Church was to last to the end,
and that no communion answered to the Church of the first
ages but the Roman Communion, both in substantial likeness
and in actual descent. And as to faith, my great principle
was : " Securus judicat orbis terrarimi." So I say now — and
in all these questions of detail 1 say to myself, I believe
whatever the Church teaches as the voice of God — and this
or that particular inclusively, z/"she teaches this — it is this
Jides implicita which is our comfort in these irritating times.
And I cannot go beyond this — I see arguments here, argu-
ments there — I incline one way to-day another to-morrow —
on the whole I more than incline in one direction — but I
do not dogmatise — and I detest any dogmatism where the
Church has not clearly spoken. And if I am told : " The

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 235

Church has spoken," then I ask when ? and if, instead of
having anything plain shown me, I am put off with a string
of arguments, or some strong words of the Pope himself,
I consider this a sophistical evasion, I have only an opinion
at best (not faith) that the Pope is infallible, and a string of
arguments can only end in an opinion — and I comfort myself
with the principle : " Lex dubia non obligat " — what is not
taught universally, what is not believed universally, has no
claim on me — and, if it be true after all and divine, my faith
in it is included in the iviplicita fides which I have in the
Church.'

In 1869 Mr. Ward withdrew a portion of his previous theory
— which had claimed infallibility for all the pronounce-
ments from which the Syllabus drew its list of condemned
errors. 'I freely confess,' he wrote, 'that when I set forth
this thesis in some of my writings I extended it too far.' '
And he cites the opinion of grave theologians as his reason
for retracting. But this change only confirmed Newman in
his objection to Ward's course in branding at the outset as
guilty of ' minimism ' and of mortal sin, those who held a
view with which he himself ultimately concurred.

It was in October 1867 that Mr. Peter le Page Renouf
consulted Newman as to the advisability of writing on the
Honorius case. Newman's counsel was in the affirmative,
and he did not keep his opinion secret. He wrote of it to
Mr. Walker. He wrote of it also to Father Harper, the
Jesuit. His object was to gain that free discussion of its
bearing on the proposed definition which he felt to be so
necessary.

' A friend of mine tells me,' he wrote to Father Harper,
' that he got up the case of Honorius years ago, and that he
beheves it to be inconsistent with the Pope's infallibility —
and he is not unlikely to publish on the subject. I cannot
be sorry he should do so, for it is right that all the facts
should be brought together. I believe they will turn out not
inconsistent with his infallibility — but I don't profess to have
made a study of Honorius.'

A letter to Mr. Renouf himself, after the publication of
the pamphlet, indicates the line of thought on which Newman
afterwards laid so much stress in the ' Letter to the Duke of

' Doctrinal Aiilhorily, p. 462.

236 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Norfolk,' that an individual utterance of an individual Pope
must be interpreted in harmony with universally accepted
Catholic theology, and so interpreted as not to run counter to
its received principles.

'I read your pamphlet yesterday,' he writes on June 21,
1868, ' and found it to have the completeness and force which
I had expected in it.

' It is very powerful as an argument and complete as a
composition. I certainly did not know how strong a case
could be made out against Pope Honorius. But with all its
power, I do not find that it seriously interferes with my own
view of Papal Infallibility : and its completeness is in part
due to your narrowing the compass of your thesis and is in
part compromised by your devious attacks on writers who
differ from you. . . .

' I will tell you why you do not touch, or very slightly
touch, my own view of the subject ; and I suppose what I
hold is in fact what many others hold also.

' I hold the Pope's Infallibility, not as a dogma, but as
theological opinion ; that is, not as a certainty, but as a
probability. You have brought out a grave difficulty in the
way of the doctrine ; that is, you have diminished its proba-
bility ; but you have only diminished it. To my mind the
balance of probabilities is still in favour of it. There are
vast difficulties, taking facts as they are, in the way of denying
it. In a question which is anyhow surrounded with difficulties,
it is the least of difficulties to maintain that, if we knew all
about Honorius's case, something would be found to turn
up to make it compatible with the doctrine, I recollect
Dr. Johnson's saying, " there are unanswerable objections to
a plenum, and unanswerable objections to a vacuum, yet one
or the other must be true." . . .

'Anyhow the doctrine of Papal Infallibility must be
fenced round and limited by conditions. . . .

' Mgr. Sarra in his book on Indulgences, which Fr. St.
John has lately translated, asserts in like manner that, when
the Pope in certain forms of Indulgence distinctly declares
that he remits guilt, he really does not mean to do so, for
such doctrine would be against the Catholic P'aith. This
then is one large condition, which all Ultramontanes ac-
quiesce in and exercise, whether they will or no, viz. that,
when the Pope uses words which, taken in their obvious
meaning, are uncatholic, he either must not be intending to
speak c.v cathedra or must not mean what he seems to
mean.'

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-186S) 237

W. G. Ward was far too frank and honest a contro-
versialist not to face the facts of the Honorius case when
they were brought before him by Mr. Renoufs pamphlet.
But it was significant that he had formulated his theory
without expressfy allowing for them. He now wrote in the
Dublin Reviezu dealing with the case fully, and maintaining
that though Honorius did teach, and teach officially in his
letter to Sergius, and though his teaching did undoubtedly
countenance heresy, he was speaking not ex cathedra as
Universal doctor, but only as the official Doctrinal ruler
{Gubertiator Doctrinalis). This admission, however, raised
the question, How can it be at once determined in which of
these two capacities a Pope's official pronouncement on doc-
trinal matters is made ? Here was a matter which called for
very careful investigation on the part of theologians.

It was easy to decide after the event that an official letter
from a Pope purporting to give doctrinal guidance, which was
condemned by at least three subsequent Popes in Council as
countenancing heresy, could not have been a decision ex
cathedra. But how about its determination by those who
lived at the time ? How would Mr. Ward's advocacy of an
uncritical following of the Pope's guidance have operated?
As it was, one of the ablest defenders of Honorius has left it
on record that ' the continual resistance to the true doctrine
had been built on the authority of Honorius,' and that 'without
his important letters in all probability no Monothelite troubles
would have disturbed the pages of history.' ^ Pope Agatho
distinguished the indefectible faith of Peter from the erroneous
teaching which had been countenanced by the reigning Pope
Honorius. Unless theologians vigilantly kept guard on this
distinction, what absolute guarantee was there against a re-
petition of the prevalence of false doctrine under Pontifical
guidance? How was it consistent to brand as ' minimising '
Catholics those who held that the Papal letter of 1863 to the
Archbishop of Munich was sent by the Pope as doctrinal
ruler, and not as an infallible utterance, when in the case of
the letter to the Patriarch Sergius such a verdict had been
passed by the Roman See itself?

The events and controversies of the succeeding years —

' Dom Chapman, O. S.B., in the Diihlin Review, No. 280, p. 69.

238 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

from 1867 to 1870 — showed more and more clearly that the
root question at issue between Father Ryder and Mr. Ward
was not the 'extent of infallibility' — the initial subject of
the discussion — but rather the functions of active theo-
logical thought in appraising precisely what was infallibly
determined.

The differences between the school of Newman, Ryder,
and Dupanloup, and the school represented by the Dublin
Review and the Univcrs, had been manifest at the time of the
appearance of the Syllabus two years earlier. They were
also apparent later on when the opportuneness of the
definition of Papal Infallibility was debated.

Newman had already in the ' Apologia ' forestalled a good
many of the questions which W. G. Ward discussed in the
Dublin Reviezu. There, as also in the letter to Mr. Ornsby
on the same subject, already cited, he had pointed out that,
in the palmy days of the Church's theology, the difficult
intellectual problems which arose, as the University pro-
fessors attempted to reconcile the truths of Revelation with
the claims of newly emerging speculations or conclusions of
the reason, had been thoroughly and exhaustively debated in
the schools ; and that when the Holy See in the end perhaps
intervened it was to ratify as orthodox the conclusion already
reached by reason. The Holy See was using the ' means
supplied by Providence,' of which the Vatican Decree Pastot
Aetermis did eventually speak, to assist it in making its deci-
sions accurate, and in so expressing them as to accord with
the many existing theological authorities and past decisions
of Councils and Popes. Some such means of ascertaining the
truth was, of course, necessary for the Holy See in the absence
of direct inspiration. The third alternative was that very
arbitrariness and absolutism in its decisions, with which Pro-
testants charge the Papacy, and which Catholics have ever
repudiated as inconsistent with the traditions of the Church.
What Newman evidently dreaded was, lest the destruction of
the theological schools, which he constantly deplored, coupled
with the spread of Ward's theory which made light of even
the theological auxilia which were still available, might lead
to decisions of authority not at all adequate to the complexity
and difficulty of the questions raised, nor taking full account

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY (1867-1868) 239

of the already existinfjf theological decisions and authoritative
dicta bearing on the same subjects. He remembered that
even in infallible decisions, while immunity from error was
guaranteed by Providence, their adequacy and luminousness
was held by theologians to vary according to the quality of the
minds engaged in their preparation.^ Then there were in ad-
dition weighty decisions of Popes or Roman Congregations in
which there was not held to be any guarantee of immunity
from error. If the ' political and ultra-devotional party ' of
Louis Veuillot and his friends were reinforced by theologians
like Ward and Father Schrader, and if Rome, even without
formally sanctioning their theory, so far gave ear to its
promoters as to issue decisions without adequate theo-
logical preparation, disastrous consequences would ensue.
Authority might be identified in the public mind with
the ' violent ultra party which exalts opinions into dogmas
and has at heart principally the destruction of every school
of thought but its own.' ^ The absence of sufficient regard
for intellectual interests — not unnatural in measures insti-
gated by men like M. Veuillot, for whom these interests had
practically no existence — might make faith and loyalty ex-
cessively difficult for thinking minds. Really effective apolo-
getic might become almost impossible. The ablest Catholics
indeed would m.ake privately the necessary qualifications.
But to express them publicly might be to incur charges
of unorthodoxy from the Univers from which they might
naturally shrink. All this would, no doubt, be entirely out-
side the intention of the Holy See, but nevertheless the
forces at work might bring about these unfortunate conse-
quences. The destruction of the theological schools had
diminished the normal influence of intellectual interests in the
Church. The ' political and ultra-devotional party ' was un-
duly powerful. This party had won its influence by loyalty
to the Holy See — devoted as well as militant — yet that in-
fluence might be most unfortunate in matters whose nature
and importance its members failed to understand. Newman's
great fear, in the years 1866-70, during which the proposed
definition was canvassed, seems to have been that by its terms
it might appear to the world at large to sanction such

' See Letter to Duke of Norfolk, p. 307. '-' Apologia, p. 260.

240 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

excesses as those of M. Louis Veuillot, novelties which were
at variance with traditional Catholic theology.

He wrote to Canon Walker urging him, as a hereditary
Catholic, to testify publicly to the theology he had learnt
in his boyhood, as contrasted with the innovations of
M. Veuillot and Father Schrader :

'November lo, 1S67.

' Thank you for your letters, which I was very glad to
receive. I will tell you what they brought home to my mind,
what indeed I have once or twice thought of before — that you
should really write a pamphlet hearing witness to the views
taught to Catholics when you were young. No one can do it
but one who can speak as an authoritative witness, and such
you would be. There are very few who could do it but you,
— and it is really most necessary. Here is the Archbishop in
a Pastoral or Pamphlet putting out extreme views — getting
it read to the Pope, and circulating that the Pope approved of
it — all with a view of anticipating and practising upon the
judgments of the Bishops, when they meet for a General
Council. Of course what the General Council speaks
is the word of God — but still we may well feel indignant
at the intrigue, trickery, and imperiousness which is the
human side of its history — and it seems a dereliction of
duty not to do one's part to meet them. You are one of
the few persons who can give an effective testimony, and I
hope you will. And now having " liberated my mind," and
feeling relieved by having done so, I have nothing to do
but to subscribe myself

* Very sincerely yours,

J. H. N.'

However, while these anxieties weighed heavily and in-
creasingly on Newman until after the Vatican Council, he had
in 1868, as we have already seen, a great encouragement in
two things. First, the Pope, after having his works examined
and approved, had directed that he should be asked to help in
preparing the material for the Council. This was a vindica-
tion of his orthodoxy, and it gave him a clear locus standi in
writing his opinion freely as to the difficulties attaching to some
of the proposed canons and definitions. Secondly, he had at
this time constant and widespread testimony to his influence,
which he now felt to be such that it might greatly help in
the objects he had at heart. The entry in his journal in
November 186S opens with a note almost of triumph :

PAPAL INFALLIBILITY {1867-1868) 241

•Nov. 30lh, 1868.

* Hcec Diutatio dextrce Excels i. I am too old to feel much
pleasure or at least to realise that I do — but certainly I have
abundant cause to bless and praise God for the wonderful
change that has taken place in men's estimation of me, that
is, if I can make that change subservient to any good purpose.
An Anglican correspondent writes to me" You occupy a very
unique position in England. There is no other man whose
mere word would be more readily taken without the necessity
of having it confirmed by any other testimony. I do not
know any revolution of public feeling so complete as this."

' As far as this is a correct statement, I think the fact
arises from the feeling in the public mind that for many, for
20 years, I have been unfairly dealt with. It is a generous
feeling desirous of making amends. Thus I account for
the great considerateness which the Spectator, the Saturday
Review, nay the Pall Mall, and the Anglican Guardian and
other Anglican newspapers show me. But it is showing
itself still more in facts — Copeland has lately heard from
Rivingtons that the first volume of the new Edition of my
Parochial Sermons, published in May, has already, in half a
year, sold to the number of 3500 copies — and that this num-
ber includes an " extensive sale " among Dissenters. — Another
remarkable fact is that Sir F. Doyle, Poetry Professor at
Oxford, is paying me the extraordinary compliment of giving
a Public Lecture on my " Dream of Gerontius."

' Then on the other hand, whereas the Pope directed that
I should be asked to go to Rome to take part in preparing
matters for the Council, the Catholic papers, which have not
hitherto spoken well of me, say that it has been a special
invitation, the first and hitherto only one made to any Priest
in England, Scotland, or Ireland &c. &c.

' Per contra — I shall be selling out my newly acquired stock
of credit in these Catholic circles, if I publish this letter on
Renoufs pamphlet upon Honorius, as I am thinking of doing.

' I have nothing particular to remark on the above — but
record it, as I would the risings and fallings of the weather
glass. I am too old not to feel keenly that unless I can do
something for God by means of the good words which men
give me, such praise is mere chaff, and will be whirled away
by the wind some fine morning, leaving nothing behind it.

* Another very encouraging fact is, that, in spite of opposi-
tion and criticism, Ignatius's pamphlets certainly have done
a work, and hav-e thrown back the v^pLs opOlwv KvwSdXayv, the
arrogant ipse dixits of various persons who would crush every
opinion in theology which is not theirs.'

VOL. IL R

CHAPTER XXVIII

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870;

During the period we have been reviewing, from 1866 to
186S, in which the contest on the InfaUibility of the Papacy
was so keen, Newman was engaged in writing his ' Essay in
Aid of a Grammar of Assent.' For years, as we have seen,
he had been urged by W. G. Ward to write on Faith
and Reason — a work which should be in some sense a
sequel to the Oxford University Sermons ' On the Theory of
Religious Belief He had again and again taken notes for
it ; and the subject was to have been dealt with in the ' Pro-
legomena ' to the ill-fated translation of the Scriptures. His
keen realisation of the sceptical standpoint, and of the
fallacy of Catholic faith in the eyes of the sceptic, is vividly
presented in the following memorandum of i860 on 'The
Fluctuations of Human Opinion ' :

' (i) We cannot get beyond a judgment such that it denies
itself soon and melts away into another — nothing fixed and
stable.

' (2) Hence what does Catholicism do but arbitrarily fix
what is not fixed, and perpetuate by an unnatural and
strained force what else would be transitory. It assumes
and wills that this or that should be true which is not true to
the mind except for a time or more than something else.

' (3) We cannot get beyond a certain degree of probability
about anything, but Catholicism enforces a certainty greater
than Mathematics,

' (4) and making it a sin to doubt, artificially prolongs an
opinion. It is but an opinion that the Church is infallible,
but we commit a man to it and make it a sin to doubt it. If
he argued himself into it, why may he not argue himself out
of it ? If it is a conclusion from premisses at first why not
always ?

' (5) How can there be a revelation ; for the certainty of it
must depend on uncertain premisses ? Such seems the state of
human nature. In this state of things what does Catholicism

•THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' {1870) 243

do but unnaturally prolong a particular state of opinion and
pretend to a certainty which is impossible ? '

This plausible view of the inherent uncertainty of religious
opinions had been considered by him both at Oxford (in the
University Sermons) and at Dublin in a lecture already cited
in these pages.' But he felt that he had more to say on the
subject, and had several times turned his mind to it.

After the abandonment of the ' Prolegomena ' he had again
contemplated a book on the same theme, but on somewhat
different lines — more distinctly as an account of the basis
on which minds unacquainted with scientific theology or
philosophy could and did rest their religious belief This
particular plan had been mentioned in i860 in a letter to
Dr. Meynell, Professor of Philosophy at Oscott. Dr. Meynell
had read Newman's University Sermons and referred in a
letter to his keen appreciation of their value. Newman thus
replied to him :

' The Oratory, Birmingham : Jan. 23rd, '60.

' My dear Dr. Meynell, — Your letter has given me most
exceeding pleasure. First, because you really have taken
the trouble to read my book through, when I could not have
fancied you would have done more than read parts. Next,
because you corroborate my own impression, that what
Mr. Mansel has said I have said before him. And thirdly
because you think I have avoided many of his errors.

' Since I sent it you I have had some correspondence with
a dear old Protestant friend, who wished me to write a book,
on what would really be the same subject expanded — so now
I am more inclined to do something or other on the subject,
but less certain whether or not to re-issue the Sermons. If I
wrote a new work, it would be on " the popular, practical, and
personal evidence of Christianity" — i.e. as contrasted to the
scientific, and its object would be to show that a given
individual, high or low, has as much right (has as real rational
grounds) to be certain, as a learned theologian who knows
the scientific evidence.

' Your opinion of my sermons is the second favourable
judgment that I have had — some years ago some priests in
France translated nine of them into French.

' Yours very sincerely

John H. Newman,

of the Oratory.'
• See Vol. I. p. 393.

R 2

244 I^ll^'I^ OV CARDINAL NEWMAN

Let it be remembered that the ordinary reply in the
current school treatises to the question, * How can the
uneducated man have sufficient reason for beh'ef in Chris-
tianity ? ' was that such a one has reasons sufficient to satisfy
his own limited intellect. This clearly left a difficulty un-
solved. For a fallacious argument might satisfy an un-
critical and uneducated mind. In the University Sermon on
' Wisdom as contrasted with Faith and Bigotry ' Newman
had met the difficulty by the suggestion that the Faith of the
simple involved a semi-conscious share in the Wisdom of the
Church as a whole. The single-hearted love of truth secured
some participation in a deeper intellectual and philosophical
system and process of proof than the individual mind could
explicitly formulate or appreciate. In the ' Essay on Assent '
he developed a part only of this line of thought. He
analysed the large part played in the formation of convic-
tions by 'implicit' — or 'subconscious' reasoning, as it after-
wards came to be called. An uneducated man ' with a heart
and an eye for truth ' might reason well — though the process
could not be formally and consciously analysed by him. He
would come to a right conclusion, though his expressed argu-
ments might be inadequate or faulty. There were, moreover,
grounds of conviction too personal to be adequately expressed.
These played a large part in the religious convictions of
educated and uneducated alike. Yet from their nature they
could not be fully set forth in formal treatises. This line of
thought had been already sketched in the University Sermon,
'Explicit and Implicit Reason.' The ' Essay on Assent' in
the end did not, then, confine itself to an examination of
the grounds for faith accessible to the uneducated. It dealt
rather with those personal grounds of belief which the
educated and uneducated may have in common — grounds
largely independent of technical studies and arguments
which could be appreciated only by the learned few. And it
dwelt on the depth and importance of these informal and
personal proofs.

Newman found a difficulty in some quarters in making the
necessity of his work — or its very object— understood. Even
among educated Catholics there were many who learnt more
or less mechanically the recognised credentials of the Church

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 245

as well as its doctrines. They did not really weigh the
adequacy of the proofs, which they accepted on the word
of that Church whose authority the proofs themselves pro-
fessed to establish. To reflect on the vicious circle which
this involved was in their eyes to admit a doubt against
Faith. This was an attitude quite at variance with the
teaching of the best theologians, but in fact it was widely
prevalent. And W. G. Ward and Newman, who were on
this subject in close sympathy, had found even so able a
man as Cardinal Wiseman not wholly free from the con-
fusion of thought which it involved. This became apparent
in a conversation between the three men in 1859, and
Newman clinched the matter and somewhat staggered the
Cardinal with the question, ' Then pray, your Eminence,
what is the difference between Faith and Prejudice?'

As Catholics came to be more and more in contact with
the modern world and with able men who did not accept
Christianity, and learnt thus to realise the force of objections
to their belief, such a way of looking at the matter must
clearly afford a very insecure basis for its defence.

While the subject had, as we have seen, been in Newman's
mind for years, the decisive influence leading him to write on
the lines finally chosen came with dramatic suddenness, and
is described in a letter to Mr. Aubrey de Vere, written in
August 1870, immediately after the publication of his 'Essay ' :

' As to my Essay on Assent,' he wrote, ' it is on a subject
which has teazed me for these twenty or thirty years. I felt
I had something to say upon it, yet, whenever I attempted, the
sight I saw vanished, plunged into a thicket, curled itself up
like a hedgehog, or changed colours like a chameleon. I
have a succession of commencements, perhaps a dozen, each
different from the other, and in a different year, which came
to nothing. At last, four years ago, when I was up at Glion
over the Lake of Geneva, a thought came into my head as
the clue, the " Open Sesame," of the whole subject, and I at
once wrote it down, and I pursued it about the Lake of
Lucerne. Then when I came home I began in earnest, and
have slowly got through it.'

The thought that came to him at Glion was, as he says in
a ' Memorandum ' to be cited shortly, that Certitude is a form
of Assent, and that to treat of the psychology of Assent as

L

246 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

distinguished from inference was the key to his book. The
exposition of this view of the case proved to be an important
part of his work, but perhaps not the most important. Assent
is treated in his book as being in its nature unconditional.
The act of assent to a new conclusion is a definite step taken
by the mind in response to many rational influences, latent
as well as conscious, and not as the mere mechanical or
passive recognition then and there of an inference from
premisses. This is perhaps his newest and subtlest contri-
bution to the problem. But it was not probably that which
was most helpful to the average reader. The doctrine of
the ' illative sense ' has become by general consent the most
characteristic lesson taught by the ' Essay.' This doctrine
it was that met one sj^ecial philosophical difficulty which
prompted him to write.

I have said above that one avowed object of the ' Essay
on Assent ' was to show that simple and uneducated minds
could have rational grounds for belief in Christianity without
knowledge of its scientific evidences. But the other laaaia
in Christian apologetic, to fill which the book was written,
was that expressed in the letter to Mr. Capes already
cited.' He desired to view the unbeliever's attitude truly.
He treated it as being due to the assumption of false
first principles. This account did not get rid of the un-
believer's responsibility, but it left intact his sincerity. Both
his own cast of mind and his familiar intimacy with such
earnest doubters as William Froude, made him feel how little
cogent for the age to come, when believer and doubter must
be in daily intercourse, was a line of apologetic which im-
plied that there must be conscious insincerity in the doubter
or Agnostic.

The supposition that the case for Christianity could be
drawn up with the completeness of a barrister's brief, and
that as so stated it was in itself conclusive to any honest
mind, was false to obvious facts. Unbelievers were not as a
rule hie et mine dishonest men whose bad dispositions held
them back from recognising a clearly convincing proof of
Christianity. And one reason why this fact was not ade-
quately recognised among Catholic theologians was that

' See Vol. I. pp. 244, 247.

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 247

believer and unbeliever lived very largely apart and the un-
believer's mind was not familiarly known by the believer.
The position maintained by Christian apologists stamped
them in the eyes of the mass of strenuous and able thinkers
on religion as sectarian and bigoted. While not disputing
the recognised teaching in the Catholic schools that the
reasons ascertainable on behalf of the Christian revelation
were such as should lead * a prudent man ' to believe, and to
exclude a 'prudent' doubt, Newman set himself to examine
the nature of the evidence and the conditions for its appre-
hension : and unbelief appears in his pages not as due to
conscious dishonesty, but as resulting from an attitude which
precludes full knowledge of the evidence. His work included
an analysis of the mind of believer and unbeliever and of the
differences between them. He drew attention to the subtle
personal appreciation on the part of the religious mind, which
made it find so much more evidence for Christianity in the
acknowledged facts of its history than the irreligious mind
could see. The general outcome of this portion of the book
was to show the important place held by antecedent con-
ditions among the reasons convincing the believer. And
among these conditions were the experiences and action of
the individual mind. The religious mind instinctively and by
degrees accumulated evidences of which the irreligious mind
— reasoning on different principles — remained wholly or
partially unaware. The action of the will and of moral dis-
positions was gradual. Moral defect must in the long run
lead the mind to miss the deepest grounds of belief. But
this was something very different from insincerity. To quote
a sentence written by Newman on the subject to the present
writer, ' The religious mind sees much which is invisible to
the irreligious mind. They have not the same evidence before
them.'

Newman did not deny that one reasoned rightly, the
other wrongly. He did not deny that there might be
responsibility for the false principles which led to unbelief —
for the failure of the unbeliever to recognise the deeper
principles which a Christian thinker adopts (as he phrased it
a little later) ' under the happy guidance of the moral sense.'
But he did away with the old contrast, to which Protestants

248 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

as well as Catholics had long been accustomed, between
believer and unbeliever as two men looking at and appre-
hending precisely the same evidence, which was so obviously
cogent that only a man whose will was here and now
perverse could disbelieve. He substituted a far subtler
analysis in which circumstances and education played their
part in the power of mental vision on the particular subject ;
in which the appreciation of reasons was personal, and
gradual ; religious earnestness and true principles being
necessary not only to the acceptance of the reasoning for
Christianity, but to its adequate apprehension.

The book was actually begun amid the hills of Switzer-
land, where he was travelling with Ambrose St. John in
August 1866.

The negotiations concerning Oxford interrupted his work.
But it was resumed in the summer of 1867. In the summer
of 1868 the first draft was nearly finished. Henry Wilbcr-
force at this time consulted him on a controversy between
two of his acquaintance, a Catholic and a Freethinker, on the
grounds of religious belief. This led Newman, who was full
of his subject, to write at length to his friend upon his
forthcoming work :

' As to what I have done, I cannot tell if it is a Truism,
a Paradox, or a Mare's nest. Since it certainly may be any
one of the three, the chance of its being anything better is
not encouraging. I consider there is no such thing as a
perfect logical demonstration ; there is always a margin of
objection even in Mathematics, except in the case of short
proofs, as the propositions of Euclid. Yet on the other hand
it is a paradox to say there is not such a state of mind as
certitude. It is as well ascertained a state of mind, as doubt —
to say that such a phenomenon in the human mind is a mere
extravagance or weakness is a monstrous assertion which I
cannot swallow. Of course there may be abuses and mistakes
in [)articular cases of certitude, but that is another matter.
It is a law of our yiaturc, then, that we are certain on premisses
which do not reach demonstration. This seems to me
undeniable. Then what is the faculty (since it is not the
logical Dictum de oiiiui ct nullo) which enables us to be
certain, to have the state of mind called certitude, though the
syllogism before us is not according to the strict rules of
Barbara? I think it is ippovi-jo-is which tells when to

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 249

discard the logical imperfection and to assent to the con-
clusion which ought to be drawn in order to demonstration
but is not quite. No syllogism can prove to me that
Nature is uniform — but the argument is so strong, though
not demonstrative, that I should not be (f)p6vt/xo9 but a fool,
to doubt. Now the (^pov-qais may be easily biassed by our
wishes, by our will. This is even the case in Mathematics
and Physico-mathematics ; as the Dominican opposition
even to this day to the Copernican system may be taken
to illustrate. So again in history &c. a cumulative argument,
though not demonstrative, may claim of us, i.e. by the law of
our nature, by our duty to our nature, i.e. by our duty to
God, an act of certitude. Paper logic, syllogisms, and states
of mind are incommensurables. It is obvious what room
there is for the interference of the will here. None are so
deaf as those who won't hear.

' Now I know that to say all this and no more, is to open
the door to endless disputes. The only thing to be done is
to rest the whole on certain first principles, and to say if you
can't take my first principles, I can't help it. But to find the
first principles is the difficulty.

' St. John says "he that believeth in the Son hath life —
and he that believeth not the Son hath not life." / say
I see no difficulty here, another says the idea is absurd. What
are we to do when we thus differ in first principles ? " Qui
vult salvus esse, ita de Trinitate sentiat." No vian, certainly,
has a right to say this — but why may not God say it .''
And if my (bpovrjais assures me that there is such evidence
for God having said it (evidence qualis et quanta) that I
am bound in duty to believe it, why must I not believe both
the doctrine and the fearful sanction of it? If a person tells
me that his (f)p6v'i]ais does not set" the existence of such
evidence, as is sufficient, that is another matter ; but I am
arguing against the principle that (f)p6v'r]cris is a higher sort
of logic — whereas even mathematical conclusions, i.e. the
issues of extended calculations, require to be believed in by the
action of ^povqais ; for how can I be sure, I tease myself
by saying again and again — how can I be sure, that here or
there my logical vigilance has not failed mc ? I have not got
every step in every course of mathematical reasoning neces-
sary for the conclusion, clearly before my eyes at once. And we
know what command nervous persons are obliged to exert
over themselves lest they should doubt whether even they
see or feel ; or whether they know anything at all. Should
not I be an ass if I did not believe in the existence of India ?

25© LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Yet are there not scores of persons who have had evidence
of a quah'ty and quantity indefinitely higher than mine? for
I have not been there and they have. I should think mj'self
a fool, if I said " I have some doubt about the existence of
India," or " I am not certain about it," or " I reserve the
point." I am certain ; YOU, my good Sir, are certain too —
you confuse two things quite distinct from each other —
want of completeness in Barbara &c., which is a scientific rule
of the game, and a habit of mind ; — a calculating machine
and a prerogative of human nature. An objection is not a
doubt — ten thousand objections as little make one doubt, as
ten thousand ponies make one horse ; though of course a
certain aimmnt of objection ought, as my ^oov^ais tells me,,
to weigh upon my decision, and to affect my existing belief
A great deal of confusion arises from the double sense of a
lot of cognate words — e.g. " conclusion " means both the
proposition drawn from two premisses, and the state of
mind in which I find myself after reviewing the argument,
the relation of my mind to a thing expressed in a certain
proposition ; and this helps the real intellectual mistake
made by sceptical thinkers.

• The key, however, of the position, in the controversy
which is before us, is this — and to gain that on either side is the
victory — whether you may or may not rationally keep your
mind ope7i to change on a point on which your (fypoinjais has
already told you to decide one way. Here I sa}- there is a
difference between science and religion, between religion of
nature and the Catholic religion — but it would take too long
a time to explain and indeed I have not yet fully worked
the whole matter out in my vn'nd to my satisfaction. I
should ask, does not nature, duty and affection teach us that
a difference is to be made between things and persons ?
Ought I to be as open to listen to objections brought to me
against the honour, fidelity, love towards me of a friend, as
against the received belief that the earth is 95 million miles
from the Sun ? Again there is a truth which no natural
reason can gain, revealed. God may put His own coiditions
on the development of that truth — and, (though at first
sight i)aradoxical) He may make one of those conditions
[thus foreseen] to be a slowness to receive more truth — (I
don't mean of course a slowness to be taught, but a slowness to
see that He is teaching). This condition ma\- be necessary
on conservative reasons, from the extreme difficult)' to
human nature of retaining what is supernatural, so that, if
we took in new truths too quickly, we might lose the old.
Thus it might have been injurious to the thorough reception,

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 251

the accurate complete mapping out of the doctrine of the
Incarnation, if the Immaculate Conception B.V.M. and her
other prerogatives had been too readily received — or again
the doctrine of Man's free will and responsibility, one of the
characteristic doctrines of Christianity, might never have
made its way against the fatalism and recklessness of heathen
times, if St. Austin's doctrines of Grace and original sin had
been taught too early. And thus I resign myself to many
things said and done by good men, which, though they have
in them the leaven of prejudice and uncharitableness, are
based on a wish to keep simply to what they have received.
However this is one of those subjects which in the beginning
of this letter I said were too large for a letter. One thing
I must add, as having omitted. When I am asked why
I cautiously and promptly exclude doubts, I answer I do so
because they are doubts ; I don't see the need of excluding
objections. The mind is very likely to be carried away to
doubt xvithout a basis of objections sufficient in the judgment
of the (fypovrjais to justify it. The imagination, not the
reason, is appealed to. How could God exist without
beginning? In reason this is no objection, for reason tells
us that something must hav'e been without beginning. But
to the imagination it is an overpowering difficulty. To a
half educated man I should say, strangle the doubt — don't
read the book which so affects you. This is not bidding him
not to listen to reasons, but to insufficient reasons, to false
reasons, which are a temptation to him. The rule " strangle
doubts " is a rule of the Confessional, not a point of dogmatic
theology .... And as to prayer, iisum nan tollit abusus. God
has given His friends a privilege — that of gaining favours
from Him — A father says to his child going to school, " Now
mind you write to me once a week." And he rewards him
in various ways, if he is obedient in this respect — We are
God's children — we are not grown men — Saints would
worship God solely because He is God — W^e all love Him
for Himself, but, considering what we are, it is merciful that
He has made hope as well as faith and love, a theological
virtue. But this is but a poor and scanty exposure of a
wonderful paradox.

' As there are things in this letter, which I have not till now
put on paper, please keep it. I am sure I don't know what
others will think of it. I only know, it is only plain common
sense to me. If you have anything to say upon it, write.'

While thus full of his subject, Newman showed his first
draft to some friends familiar with the theology of the schools,

2 52 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

and was, as often before, discouraged to find how little they
appreciated the urgency of the difficulty he was endeavouring
to meet, and how ready they were to find matter for censure
in those modes of expression which gave individuality and
originality to his work. Here was a sadly sufficient answer
to the remonstrance made by Wilberforce himself for the
comparatively small amount he had published of late years :

♦ The Oratory : Aug. I2th, 1868.

'My dear II. VV., — Thank you for the trouble you have
taken in copying my letter, and for the encouragement you
give me, which 1 sorely need. I know any how, that,
however honest are my thoughts, & earnest my endeavours
to keep rigidly within the lines of Catholic doctrine, every
word I publish will be malevolently scrutinized, and every
expression which can possibly be perverted sent straight to
Rome — that I shall be fighting under the lash, which does
not tend to produce vigorous efforts in the battle, or to inspire
either courage or presence of mind. And if from those who
ought to be friends, I cannot look for sympathy — if, did I do
my work ever so well, they will take no interest in it, or see
the use of it, where can I look for that moral aid which
carries one through difficulties? where for any token that
Providence means me to go on with my work?

* I don't think my various occupations here are the cause
of my doing so little. I was full of household work when
I wrote my Anglican difficulties and Catholicism in England
— but I was not encompassed then by a host of ill wishers,
and I was younger. Now it tires me to be a long time at
one matter, and from fatigue I cannot write things off. Also
my present subject is one which can only gradually be
thought out,

' As to my engagements here, a Superior must have
them. We are very few Fathers, and each has his work — one
has the jail — another the orphanage — two have the school —
another has the parish — another the Poor Schools. The great
domestic works, the care of the Library, the Sacristy, the
Accounts, necessarily in great measure fall to me, at least at
intervals. Now I am at the Library. The Oxford matter,
correspondence & accounts, took up an untold mass of time,
— and tired me, so that the)' wasted more. And now that I
am getting so old, I wanted to go through all my correspond-
ence &c. &c. which will be close employment for some years.

' Ever yours affectionately,

Jonx IL Newman.'

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1S70) 253

He persevered with his work, but somewhat sadly. He
writes of it on September 3 to Ambrose St. John :

' I am getting on with my Opus (Essay of Assent) but
ungratefully. I have got downhearted about it, as if "cui
bono ? " Wallis has been looking at it, and though he is
complimentary, what he really thinks I cannot tell. I have
not touched the violin since I saw you except last Sunday,
when I drew such doleful sounds from it, that I at once left
off.'

Newman's haunting fear — as we see in subsequent letters —
was of the men who knew much and understood little ; who
could bring to bear a large array of expressions stamped
' orthodox ' against him, yet had not such perception of the
real problems in question as to enable them to distinguish
between contradictions mainly or merely verbal, and funda-
mental contrarieties. His unceasing protest, moreover, was
against the ' nihilism ' of condemning able works of apolo-
getic on technical grounds, without appreciating the urgent
difficulties which made them necessary, and without supply-
ing anything in their place to meet those difficulties. The
work of a writer who has true insight into the sources
of contemporary unbelief may be indispensable, even though
it may contain incidental error. Some words in a Dublin
lecture expressed a feeling on this subject which was habi-
tual with him. ' Perhaps the errors of an author are those
which are inseparable accidents of his system or of his mind,
and are spontaneously evolved, not pertinaciously defended.
Every human system, every human writer is open to just
criticism. Make him shut up his portfolio, good ! and then
perhaps you lose what, on the whole and in spite of inci-
dental mistakes, would have been one of the ablest defences
of Revealed Truth ever given to the world.' ^

Newman was far too uncertain of his own work to place
it confidently in the category named in this passage. But it
represented the thoughts of a whole life. Such thoughts had
been invaluable to him, and they might help others. They
should be given their full chance. And he feared lest on
the contrary they might be censured by those who neither
understood them nor needed them, simply because his phrases

' See Tdea of a Uuiversity, p. 477.

254 I^IFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

did not run in the accustomed c^roove. His fears were to
some extent fulfilled when he showed his work in proof to a
theological friend, as we see from the following letter to
Henry Wilberforce :

* August 20, 1869.
' It is sad to hear anyone speak as if his work was done,
and he was but waiting to go not sad — as if it were noi good
to go ; but [it is] not good to be in the world still, with one's
work done — for what does one live for except to work ?
And then my thoughts glanced off from you and came down
on myself with dismal effect — for what am I doing, what
have I been doing for years, but nothing at all ? I have
wished earnestly to do some good work, and continually
asked myself whether I am one of those who are " fruges
consumcre nati " — and have, to the best of my lights, taken
what I thought God would have me do — but again and
again, plan after plan has crumbled under my hands and
come to nought. As to the Oxford matter my heart sank
under the greatness of the task and I think it would have
shortened my life, still it was work and service — and, when it
was shut up, though I felt for the moment a great relief, yet
it came upon me sorrowfully as a fresh balk and failure.
Upon its settlement, I took up to write a book upon some
questions of the day, (you know the sort of questions, about
faith &c.) and now (in confidence) I think this will be stopped
after my infinite pains about it. Our theological philosophers
are like the old nurses who wrap the unhappy infant in swad-
dling bands or boards— put a lot of blankets over him — and
shut the windows that not a breath of fresh air may come to
his skin as if he were not healthy enough to bear wind and
water in due measure. They move in a groove, and will not
tolerate anyone who does not move in the same. So it
breaks upon me, that I shall be doing more harm than good
in publishing. What influence should 1 have with Pro-
testants and Infidels, if a pack of Catholic critics opened at
my back fiercely, saying that this remark was illogical, that
unheard of, a third realistic, a fourth idealistic, a fifth
sceptical, and a sixth temerarious, or shocking to pious ears?
This is the prospect which I begin to fear lies before me —
and thus I am but fulfilling on trial what I said in my
"Apologia" had hitherto kept me from writing, viz. the risk
of " complicating matters further." There was a caricature in
Ptincli some years ago so good that I cut it out and kept it.
An artist is showing to a friend his great picture just going
to the Exhibition— the friend sa}'s "Very good, but could

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 255

you not make the Duke sitting and the Duchess standing,
whereas the Duchess sits and the Duke stands ? " I cannot
make a table stand on two or three legs —I cannot cut off
one of the wings of my butterfly or moth (whatever its value)
and keep it from buzzing round itself. One thing is not
another thing. My one thing may be worth nothing at the
best — but at least it is not made worth something by being
cut in half.

' You must not for an instant suppose that I am alluding
to the acts of anyone whose opinion I have wished to have
upon what I have written — but through a kind friend I come
more to see than I did, what an irritabile genus Catholic
philosophers are — they think they do the free Church of God
service, by subjecting it to an etiquette as grievous as that
which led to the King of Spain being burned to cinders.'

Dr. Meynell — the friend above alluded to in Newman's
letter to Mr. Wilberforce — had, as we have seen, expressed
great admiration of the Oxford University Sermons on Faith
and Reason, and he was at the same time a trained scholastic
philosopher and theologian. To him, then, Newman ap-
pealed to read the proof sheets of his work, sending the
first instalment on July 2, 1869. The text of Dr. Meynell's
criticisms I have not found, but Newman's own part of the
correspondence, though not wholly intelligible without the
criticisms to which his letters refer, is characteristic. We
see in his letters his general desire to avoid even forms of
expression which have been for good reasons discouraged by
high theological authority. One noteworthy point of debate
is Newman's use of the word ' instinct,' which is so generally
associated with impulses below the rational nature that Dr.
Meynell naturally demurred to it as applied to rational know-
ledge. But in Newman's own use of the term it includes
the spontaneous inferences of the ' illative sense ' — processes
of subconscious reasoning — as well as the lower instincts ;
and he suggested that to express the instinct of brutes which
has no rational character some other phrase ought to be
devised. Newman's work was primarily psychological, and
the distinction between the spontaneous act of the mind
and the mind's subsequent reflection on its own spontaneous
act, was so important a psychological fact that he desired
to make no change of expression which would obscure it.

256 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Where, however, a change of words will not obscure his
meaning he readily consents to it. He shows in this cor-
respondence, as in many other cases, a strong consciousness
of his own want of familiarity with the literature of meta-
physics, and at the same time a keen confidence in his
own thoughts, as distinguished from the wisdom of his
expressions. The latter must, he recognises, be affected by
the use of phrases both in the history of philosophy and in
the Catholic Schools. He is quite prepared to correct
expressions, and to think out his view again with such an
object. But if it should prove that he could not bring out
his thought without showing ' an irreconcilable difference '
between ' its conditions and what the Church teaches or has
sanctioned ' he feels that he must drop his work altogether.
There were some bad half-hours, when he feared that he
must give over his work — as the letters to Wilberforce have
already shown. But in the end the correspondence makes
it clear that Dr. Mcynell, though he regarded Newman's book
as treading often on new and unfamiliar ground, passed it
entirely on the score of orthodoxy.

* Your experienced eye,' Newman writes in sending the
proofs, ' will see if I have run into any language which
offends against doctrinal propriety or common sense. I am
not certain that you will not suddenly light on a wasp-nest^
though I have no suspicion of it — but when a matter has
not been one's study it is difficult to have confidence in
oneself

Dr. Meynell's criticisms arrived before the end of the
month, and I make some extracts from Newman's share in
the correspondence which ensued.

•July 25ih.

' I thank you very much for your criticisms which will be
very useful to me. . . .

' However the next sheet will be my great difficulty —
and I shall not wonder if it was decisive one way or the other.
You will find I there consider that the dictate of conscience
is particular — not general — and that from the multiplication
of particulars I infer the general — so that the moral sense, as
a knowledge generally of the moral law, is a deduction from
particulars.

' Next, that this dictate of conscience, which is natural
and the voice of God, is a moral instinct, and its own

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' {1870) 257

evidence — as the belief in an external world is an instinct on
the apprehension of sensible phenomena.

' That to deny these instincts is an absurdity, because they
are the voice of nature.

' That it is a duty to trust or rather to use our nature —
and not to do so is an absurdity.

'That to recognize our nature is really to recognize God.

' Hence those instincts come from God — and as the moral
law is an inference or generalisation from those instincts, the
moral law is ultimately taught us from God, whose nature
it is.

'Now if this is a wasp-nest tell me. If the Church has
said otherwise, I give it all up — but somehow it is so mixed
up with my whole book, that, if it is not safe, I shall not go
on.*

'July 27.

' I am extremely obliged to you for the trouble you are
taking with me — and I hope my shying, as I do, will not
keep you from speaking out. Pray bring out always what
you have to say. I am quite conscious that metaphysics is
a subject on which one cannot hope to agree with those with
whom in other matters one agrees most heartily, from the
extreme subtlety — but I am also deeply conscious of my own
ignorance on the whole matter, and it sometimes amazes me
that I have ventured to write on a subject which is even
accidentally connected with it. And this makes me so very
fearful lest I should be saying anything temerarious or
dangerous — the ultimate angles being so small from which
lines diverge to truth and error.

' Be sure I should never hastily give over what I am doing,
because I should have trouble in correcting or thinking out
again what I have said — but if I found some irreconcilable
difference, running through my view, between its conditions
and what the Church teaches or has sanctioned, of course I
should have no hesitation of stopping at once.

' So please to bear with me if I start or plunge.'

'Aug. 12.
' I send you with much trepidation my Asses' Bridge.
Not that I have not many skeleton bridges to pass and
pontoons to construct in what is to come, but, if I get over
the present, I shall despair of nothing. Recollect, all your
kindness and considerateness cannot alter facts ; if I am
wrong, I'm wrong — if I am rash, I'm rash, — yet certainly
I do wish to get at King Theodore over the tops of the
mountains if I can.'

VOL. II. S

s

LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

•Aug. 17.

' I only do hope I am not spoiling your holiday. You
are doing me great service.

/ * To bring matters to a point, I propose to send you my

^chapter on the apprehension and assent to the doctrine of a

Supreme Being. If you find principles in that chapter, which

cannot be allowed, res finita est. As to your remarks on the

printed slips, let me trouble you with the following questions.

' I. You mean that it is dangerous to hold that we be-
lieve in matter as a conclusion from our sensations — for
our belief in matter is in consequence of our consciousness of
resistance, which is not a sensation. Will it mend matters
to observe that I don't use the word "sensations" — but
experiences ? and surely resistance is an experience — but if
we infer matter from resistance, therefore we infer it from
experience.

* 2. By instinct I mean a realization of a particular ; by
intuition, of a general fact — in both cases without assignable
or recognizable media of realization. Is there any word I
could use instead of instinct to denote the realization of
particulars? Still, I do not see how you solve my difficulty
of instinct leading brutes to the realization of something
external to themselves ? Perhaps it ought not to be called
instinct in brutes — but by some other name.

' 3. Am I right in thinking that you wish me to infer
matter as a cause from phenomena as an effect, from jny own
view ^ cause and effect. But in my own view cause is Will;
how can matter be Will?

' 4. " Hypothetical realism" yes — if conclusions are neces-
sarily conditional. But I consider Ratiocination far higher,
more subtle, wider, more certain than logical Inference —
and its principle of action is the " Illative Sense," which
I treat of towards the end of the volume. If I say
that Ratiocination leads to absolute truth, am I still an
hypothetical realist ? '

'Aug. 18, 1869.

' I send you by this post the MSS. which I spoke of in
my last.

' On second thoughts I don't see how I can change the
word "instinct" — I have not indeed any where used it for
the perception of God from our experiences, but in later
chapters I speak of Catholic instincts, — Mother Margaret's
instincts, the instinct of calculating boys, in all cases using
the word " instinct " to mean a spontaneous impulse, physical
or intelligent, in the individual, leading to a result without
assignable or recognisable intellectual media.

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT ' (1870) 259

' Would it do, if I kept the passage and put a note to this
effect, — " I speak thus under correction, and withdraw it
prospectively, if it is contrary to the teaching of the theological
Schola " ? ' \

'Aug. 20, 1869. J

' Pray forgive me if unknown to myself and unintentionally
I have led you to think, quite contrary to my thoughts, that
you wrote dogmatically. Just the contrary, and you are
doing me a great service in letting me see how matters stand
in the philosophical school.

' Forgive too the treacherousness of my memory, though
by " composition " I meant the composition of my matter,
the drawing out of my argument, etc.

' Nothing can be clearer than your remarks. Now let me
say I had no intention at all of saying that I know, e.g. that
I have a sheet of paper before me, by an argument from the
impression on my senses — " that impression must have a
cause — " but it is ^perception (that is, a kind of instinct). I
have used the word " perception " again and again ; that
perception comes to me through my senses — therefore 1
cannot call it immediate. If it were not for my senses, nothing
would excite me to perceive — but as soon as I see the white
paper, I perceive by instinct (as I call it) without argumenta-
tive media, through my senses, but not logically by my senses,
that there is a thing, of which the white paper is the outward
token. Then, when I have this experience again and
again, I go on from the one, two, three etc. accompanying
perceptions of one, two, three etc. external objects, to make
an induction, " There is a vast external world." This in-
duction leads to a conclusion much larger than the particular
perceptions — because it includes in it that the earth has an
inside, and that the moon has a further side, though I don't
see it.

' Therefore I hold that we do not prove external individual
objects, \i\^\. perceive them — I cannot say that we immediately
perceive them, because it is through the experience as an
instrument that we are led to them — and though we do not
prove the particular, we do prove the general, i.e. by induction
from the particular. I am sanguine in thinking this is in
substance what you say yourself

The office of informal censor did not prove entirely easy.
Considering the intellectual eminence of the writer and the
rigid principles of scholastic philosophy, to sanction or to
check the new and subtle arguments submitted for censorship

26o LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

was a difficult alternative ; and in August Dr. Meynell spoke
of giving up his task. This was a great blow to Newman :

' The Oratory : Aug. 2ist, 1869.

' My dear Dr. Meynell, — Your intention to give up has
shocked and dismayed me more than I can say — shocked me
because I fear I must have said something or other in writing
which has scared you, and dismayed me, for what am I
to do?

' I quite understand that you must feel it a most un-
pleasant responsibility (though, of course, I shall not tell
anyone) and an endless work, for when will it be finished ?
It is enough to spoil your holiday, and to bother your
professional work, and 1 really have not a word to say
besides thanking you for what you have already done for me,
and begging you to forgive me if, like a camel when they are
loading it, I have uttered dismal cries.

' Well, now I am in a most forlorn condition, and, like
Adam, I feel " the world is all before me." Whom am I to
ask to do the work which you have so kindly begun ? I shall
not get anyone so patient as you, and, alas, alas, what
is to come is, for what I know, more ticklish even than what
you have seen.

' I have availed myself of all your remarks in some
way or other, though I have not always taken them pure and
simple.

' Thank you for saying you will say Mass for me. It is a
great kindness.

* Ever yours most sincerely,

John H. Newman.

' P.S. I have not said what I feel most sadly, your language
about your own littleness. If you are little, I must be less,
because you are really teaching me. I should be a fool if I
did not avail myself most thankfully of your remarks.

' You know, anyhow, you have promised me some remarks
on the MS.'

Dr. Meynell, however, in the end resumed his work, and
all went peacefully thenceforward. One interesting point was
raised in connection with the ' illative sense.' Dr. Meynell
apparently desired to treat as really identical the spontaneous
judgments of the mind and their subsequent reasoned analysis.
Newman's candid psychology made him demur to this.

' You are ten times more likely to be right on such a
point than I am,' he wrote ; ' however, at present I don't

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT ' (1870) 261

follow you, though I will think about it. My reason is this,
that consciousness or reflection on one's acts is an act
different in kind from those acts themselves. Its object is
distinct. If I walk, my e3^es may watch my walking. If I
sing, my ears listen to my voice and tell me if I am in tune.
These are acts of reflection on my walking and singing, are
they not ? but the original act is bodily, and the reflex act is
mental, I assure you I most deeply feel that I may be out
of my depth. ... I am not sure, from what you said,
whether you read the enclosed bits of theology. Please to
cast your eye over them. I must have a theological eye
upon them, and one of your eyes is theological though the
other is philosophical.'

' I am quite ashamed to think what I have cost you in
paper, pens, ink, stamps and time,' Newman writes to his
censor as the revision approaches completion.

When the book was published its author wrote his formal
thanks.

' The Oratory : Feb. 20/70.

' My dear Dr. Meynell, — I ought before now to have
written you a letter both of congratulation and thanks on
the termination of the long and teasing task which you
have so valiantly performed in my behalf All I can
say is that whatever be the amount of trouble you have
had from your charitable undertaking, my amount of gain
from it has been greater. What the positive value of my
volume is I do not know ; but this I do know, that, many
as are its imperfections and faults, they would have been
many more and much worse but for you.

' Now I want you to accept some keepsake in token of
my gratitude and as a memorial for after years. I don't care
what it is, so that it is something you would like. This is
why I don't send you something without asking, for it might
be as unwelcome to you, when it came, as the elephant in
Leech's picture. But give me two or three sets of books to
choose out of, or picture-books, or astronomical instruments,
or images or what you please.

' Believe me, my dear Dr. Meynell,

Most sincerely yours in Xt.,

John H. Newman.'

Newman wrote of the book shortly before its completion
to his friend Mr. Serjeant Bellasis, to whom it was to be
dedicated :

262 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Tell me your style and title " Edward Bellasis Esqr,
Serjeant-at-Law " ? You will still let me put your name,
won't you, to the beginning of my book ? I suppose it will be
my last. I have not finished it. I have written in all (good
and bad) 5 constructive books. My Prophetical Office (which
has come to pieces) — Essay on Justification — Development of
Doctrine — University Lectures (Dublin) and this. Each took
me a great deal of time and tried me very much. This, I
think, has tried me most of all. I have written and rewritten
it more times than I can count. I have now got up to my
highest point — I mean, I could not do better, did I spend a
century on it, but then, it may be " bad is the best." '

Newman chose for the full title of his book, ' An Essay in
Aid of a Grammar of Assent,' as if to disclaim as emphatic-
ally as possible any pretension to a final treatment of his
subject. His aim was simply to rouse in men's minds certain
perceptions as to their mental processes, rooted in the experi-
ence of mankind, but dormant, or apt to be dormant, because
their practical importance is not directly obvious. And he
trusted that these perceptions, once properly roused, would
account for and justify important beliefs which could not
adequately be proved by explicit logical arguments. The
method of the book is predominantly empirical, not theoreti-
cal. Its author does not begin by laying down the law as to
how people ought to think, but studies rather to show them
how they do think. The greater part of the work consists in
an elaborate study of the mental operations which we find
underlying the processes of Apprehension, Inference (whether
Formal or Informal), Assent, and Certitude ; and here, besides
the contrast already noticed between Inference and Assent,
appears another, equally new and striking, between ' Real '
and ' Notional ' Apprehension or Assent. All this is illustrated
by numberless examples, touched with a force and poetic
beauty, or sometimes a pungent humour, which is scarcely
paralleled in any of Newman's other works, and which make
the book well worth reading for its literary merit alone. To
give any adequate idea of the beauty of the work by extracts,
in this place, would be quite impossible.

The philosophical value of the ' Essay on Assent ' does
not at all depend on its being regarded as completely meet-
ing the difficulty it contemplates. Nor does it depend on

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 263

Newman's general theory being accepted in its entirety. Its
reasoning and illustrations have a value for students of
psychology far beyond its definite conclusions, which are to
some extent tentative. To the power of spontaneous action
in the human reason, whereby it draws its conclusions from
premisses of which it is only in part explicitly conscious,
and judges those conclusions to be warranted, he gives the
name of ' illative sense.' The mind is, he says, ' unequal to
a complete analysis of the motives which carry it on to a
particular conclusion, and is swayed and determined by a
body of proof which it recognises only as a body and not in
its constituent parts.' He instances the reasons possessed
by most of us for believing that England is an island. We
have learnt the belief among the other indubitable facts of
geography. But if anyone attempts to state his reasons
for regarding the fact as certain, whether he will in the end
justify it successfully or not, the very effort will at least show
that his existing belief has been as a fact determined by a
body of proof recognised in the mass as amply sufficient, but
not hitherto put into logical form. A few plausible reasons
for the belief at once occur to the mind, but falling far short
of demonstration. And similarly, religious belief actually rests
for most men, he holds, not on scientific demonstrations, but
on arguments which are in their more obvious statement and
when reduced to formal propositions only probable arguments,
the reasons being informal in character, and the verbal argu-
ments only symbols of those subtler grounds which make
belief as deep as it is, and justify its depth.

* I am suspicious then of scientific demonstrations in
a question of concrete fact, in a discussion between fallible
men. However let those demonstrate who have the gift ;
" unus quisque in suo sensu abundet." For me, it is more
congenial to my own judgment to attempt to prove Christianity
in the same informal way in which I can prove for certain
that I have been born into this world, and that I shall die
out of it. It is pleasant to my own feelings to follow a
theological writer, such as Amort, who has dedicated to the
great Pope, Benedict XIV., what he calls "a new, modest,
and easy way of demonstrating the Catholic religion." In
this work he adopts the argument merely of the greater
probability ; I prefer to rely on that of an accumulation of

264 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

various probabilities ; but we both hold (that is, I hold with
him), that from probabilities we may construct legitimate
proof, sufficient for certitude. I follow him in holding, that,
since a good Providence watches over us, He blesses such
means of argument as it has pleased Him to give us, in the
nature of man and of the world, if we use them duly for
those ends for which He has given them ; and that, as in
mathematics we are justified by the dictate of nature in with-
holding our assent from a conclusion of which we have not
yet a strict logical demonstration, so by a like dictate we are
not justified, in the case of concrete reasoning and especially
of religious inquiry, in waiting till such logical demonstration
is ours, but on the contrary are bound in conscience to seek
truth and to look for certainty by modes of proof, which, when
reduced to the shape of formal propositions, fail to satisfy the
severe requisitions of science.

' Here then at once is one momentous doctrine or
principle, which enters into my own reasoning, and which
another ignores, viz. the providence and intention of God ;
and of course there are other principles, explicit or implicit,
which are in like circumstances. It is not wonderful then,
that, while I can prove Christianity divine to my own satisfac-
tion, I shall not be able to force it upon anyone else. Multi-
tudes indeed I ought to succeed in persuading of its truth
without any force at all, because they and I start from the
same principles, and what is a proof to me is a proof to
them ; but if anyone starts from any other principles but
ours, I have not the power to change his principles, or the
conclusion which he draws from them, any more than I can
make a crooked man straight. Whether his mind will ever
grow straight, whether I can do anything towards its becoming
straight, whether he is not responsible, responsible to his Maker,
for being mentally crooked, is another matter ; still the fact
remains, that, in any inquiry about things in the concrete,
men differ from each other, not so much in the soundness of
their reasoning as in the principles which govern its exercise,
that those principles are of a personal character, that where
there is no common measure of minds, there is no common
measure of arguments, and that the validity of proof is de-
termined, not by any scientific test, but by the illative sense.'

Newman applies his theory to Natural Religion as well as
to Revealed. In the case of Natural Religion, while accepting
the argument from 'Order' as having a valid place in the
constructive proof of Theism, he lays far more stress on the

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 265

argument from Conscience. Few pages in the book are more
characteristic than the following, which describes the functions
of Conscience in impressing on the imagination our personal
relations with the living God :

' Conscience too, considered as a moral sense, an intel-
lectual sentiment, is a sense of admiration and disgust, of
approbation and blame : but it is something more than a
moral sense ; it is always, what the sense of the beautiful is
in certain cases ; it is always emotional. No wonder then
that it always implies what that sense only sometimes
implies ; that it always involves the recognition of a living
object, towards which it is directed. Inanimate things
cannot stir our affections ; these are correlative with persons.
If, as is the case, we feel responsibility, are ashamed, are
frightened, at transgressing the voice of conscience, this
implies that there is One to whom we are responsible, before
whom we are ashamed, whose claims upon us we fear. If,
on doing wrong, we feel the same tearful, broken-hearted
sorrow which overwhelms us on hurting a mother ; if, on
doing right, we enjoy the same sunny serenity of mind, the
same soothing, satisfactory delight which follows on our
receiving praise from a father, we certainly have within us
the image of some person, to whom our love and veneration
look, in whose smile we find our happiness, for whom we
yearn, towards whom we direct our pleadings, in whose
anger we are troubled and waste away. These feelings in us
are such as require for their exciting cause an intelligent
being : we are not affectionate towards a stone, nor do we
feel shame before a horse or a dog ; we have no remorse or
compunction in breaking mere human law : yet, so it is,
conscience excites all these painful emotions, confusion,
foreboding, self-condemnation ; and on the other hand it
sheds upon us a deep peace, a sense of security, a resignation,
and a hope, which there is no sensible, no earthly object to
elicit. " The wicked flees, when no one pursueth " ; then
why does he flee .■' whence his terror ? Who is it that he
sees in solitude, in darkness, in the hidden chambers of his
heart? If the cause of these emotions does not belong to
this visible world, the Object to which his perception is
directed must be Supernatural and Divine.'

Let it be noted that in several letters Newman distinctly
intimates his opinion that portions of his theory need revision.
He believed he had hit on an important line of thought. To

266 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

ventilate it some one must take the first step — and was not
likely to break fresh ground without saying what might need
some modification in its expression. Moreover its style was
popular rather than scientific.

' As to my book,' he wrote to the Jesuit Father Walford,
' it is always most difficult to be exact in one's language, nor
is it necessary to be exactissimus in a work which is a con-
versational essay, not a didactic treatise. It is like a military
reconnaissance, or a party in undress, or a house in Com-
mittee ; it is in English, not in Latin ; it is a preliminary
opening of the ground, which must be done at one's ease, if
it is done at all.'

Newman's feelings when he had finished his last chapter
are given in a letter to Sister Imelda Poole :

' In fest. SS. Nominis Jesu.

' My dear Rev. Mother, — I said Mass this morning for all
your intentions.

' I have just written the last sentence of my book. A
good day to finish it on, especially considering the subject of
the last few pages.

'But I have not finished it really: I have but brought it
to an end. I have to correct, re-write, retranscribe, sixty or
seventy pages of (what will be) print. It will be a month or
six weeks before it is out.

' Oh ! what a toil it has been to me — for three years —
how many times I have written it — but so I have most of
the books I have published, and since last April I have been
at work almost incessantly. I wonder what it will turn out
to be ; for I never was so ignorant before, of the practical
good and use of anything I have written. Its use will be a
matter of fact which can only be ascertained by experience.

' I have at times been quite frightened lest the labour of
thought might inflict on me some terrible retribution at my
age. It is my last work. I say work because " work " implies
effort — and there are many things I can do without an effort.
This is the fifth constructive work which I have done — two
as a Protestant, three as a Catholic.

' Pray for me and believe me

Yours most sincerely in Xt.,

John H. Newman.'

It soon became known that the book was practically ready,
and friends became eager to learn the day of publication. But

«THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 267

the work of final correction was anxious and laborious. He
writes to Hope-Scott on January 2, 1870 :

* I am engaged, as Bellasis knows, in cutting across the
isthmus of Suez ; though I have got so far as to let the water
in to the canal, there is an awkward rock in mid channel
near the mouth which takes a deal of picking and blasting.
And no man of war will be able to pass through, till I get rid
of it. Thus I can't name a day for the opening.'

The book was ready in February ; it was dedicated to
Mr. Serjeant Bellasis ' in memory of a long, equable, and
sunny friendship.' ^ Newman received the specimen bound
copy on February 21st — his sixty-ninth birthday. On the
following day he wrote to Henry Wilberforce :

'The Oratory: Feb. 22nd, 1870.

' My dear Henry, — Thank you for your affectionate letter.
I am now in my 70th year ; wonderful !

* I shall say Mass for you all on the 24th. It is singular
how many deaths of friends group round the 21st. On the
2 1st is Miss Roberts,' Johnson's and Bowden's aunt, whom I
knew from 1818. On the 22nd Henry Bowden's first wife,
and my great friend Mr. Mayers. On the 23rd Archdeacon
Froude, and on the 24th dear John. Besides on the 28th are
Hurrell Froude and Manuel Johnson, and on the 13th Father
Joseph Gordon. Then on the 3rd is Robert.

' I sent up the last corrections of my book on the evening
of the 20th, and a specimen of it bound came down on the
2 1 St. So I date it the 21st.

'Agnes shall have it, as soon as it is out. It has run
to 100 pages more than it ought. I hoped it would be
380 — it is 487 — and a fat book. People will say, much
cry and little wool — so, all this labour has issued in this
dry, humdrum concern. Tell Agnes she is bound not to
begin at the end, not to skip, but to get it up from the first
page on. And she will have a profitable Lent exercise of
mortification.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

' The story runs that Newman nearly passed the final proof of the dedication
without noticing that the printer had put 'funny' for 'sunny.' I believe this
to be true ; but a further story was also circulated (which is fabulous) that the
words ran in the proof ' in memory of a long squabble and funny friendship.'

268 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

To Miss Holmes he wrote on March 2 :

'You will be disappointed with my Grammar, and so will
every one be. It is what it is, and it is not what it isn't — and
what it isn't most people will expect that it is. It won't be
out for lo days or a fortnight yet. It is my last work — I say
" work," for though I may fiddle-faddle henceforth, a real piece
of labour will be beyond me. This is what old men cannot
do — and when they attempt it, they kill themselves. An old
horse, or an old piece of furniture, will last a long time, if you
take care of it, — so will the brain — but if you forget that it is
old, it soon reminds you of the fact by ceasing to be.*

To Father Coleridge he wrote after the publication of his
book :

'The Oratory: March 13, 1870.

'. . . I have tried to be as exact as I possibly can
theologically in what I have written, and hope I have
observed all the landmarks which theologians have laid
down, but I know, even if I succeed in having the conscious-
ness of this so far, still the main question is, whether I
have added anything to the difficult subject of which I have
treated, or have left it more confused than I found it.

' However, anyhow I have got a great burden off my mind
— for 20 or 30 years I have felt it a sort of duty to write
upon it, and I have begun again and again but never could
get on, and again and again I have in consequence stopped.
Now, whether I have done it well or ill, still I have done it.
I have no further call on me. I have done my best, and
given my all, and I leave it to Him to prosper or not, as He
thinks fit, for Whom I have done it. I say the incubus is off
my mind and it is hardly too much to say that I look forward
to death more happily, as if I had less to keep me here. I
suppose it will be my last work — meaning by" work" anxiety
and toil. Myself, I don't think it my worst — but then I
recollect it is often said that an author thinks his worst work
his best.'

The book did not pass without criticism, and the criticisms
led to interesting letters. Mr. Leslie Stephen and Mr. Fitz-
James Stephen both attacked it in Fraser's Magazine.
Others criticised it from the scholastic standpoint. It was
of course contrary to scholastic precedent to dwell almost
exclusively as he had done on Conscience as the argument
for the existence of God. Mr. Brownlow wrote to him as
though he had recognised no argument for Theism from the

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 269

visible creation ; but Newman pointed out that this was an
exaggeration. It is interesting that he had been suspicious
of Paley's argument from ' Design,' even before the evolution
theory suggested a weak point in it. But the argument
from ' Order ' was recognised in the ' Grammar of Assent.'
He writes thus to Mr. Brownlow ^ on the subject :

'The Oratory : April 13th, 1870.

' My dear Brownlow, — It is very pleasant to me to hear
what you say about my new book — which has given me great
anxiety. I have spoken of the argument for the being of
a God from the visible Creation at page 70 paragraph i.
" Order implies purpose " &c. I have not insisted on the
argument irovn design, because I am writing for the 19th Cen-
tury, by which, as represented by its philosophers, design is
not admitted as proved. And to tell the truth, though I
should not wish to preach on the subject, for 40 years I have
been unable to see the logical force of the argument myself
I believe in design because I believe in God ; not in a God
because I see design. You will say that the 19th Century
does not believe in conscience either — true — but then it does
not believe in a God at all. Something I must assume, and
in assuming conscience I assume what is least to assume, and
what most will admit. Half the world knows nothing of the
argument from design — and, when you have got it, you do
not prove by it the moral attributes of God — except very
faintly. Design teaches me power, skill, and goodness, not
sanctity, not mercy, not a future judgment, which three are
of the essence of religion.'

Before the end of the year Father Harper, the Jesuit, had
written an elaborate attack on the book from the standpoint
of a thoroughgoing scholastic.

Of this criticism, which appeared in successive articles in
the Month, Newman wrote thus to Father Coleridge :

' The Oratory : Febry. 5, 187 1.

' My dear Fr. Coleridge, — I began to read Fr. Harper's
papers, but they were (to my ignorance of theology and
philosophy) so obscure, and (to my own knowledge of my
real meaning) so hopelessly misrepresentations of the book,
that I soon gave it over. As to my answering, I think I
never answered any critique on any writing of mine, in my
life. My " Essay on Development " was assailed by Dr.
Brownson on one side, and Mr. Archer Butler on the other,
' Afterwards Bishop of Clifton.

27© LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

at great length. Brownson, I believe, thought me a Pantheist
— and sent me his work to Rome, by some American Bishop.
Mr. Butler has been lauded by his people as having smashed
me. Now at the end of twenty years, I am told from Rome
that I am guilty of the late Definition by my work on De-
velopment, so orthodox has it been found in principle, and
on the other side Bampton Lectures have been preached, I
believe, allowing that principle. The Guardian acknowledges
the principle as necessary, and the Scotch Editors of Dorner's
great work on our Lord's Person, cautioning of course the
world against me, admit that development of doctrine is an
historical fact. I shall not live another 20 years, but, as I
waited patiently, as regards my former work, for " Time to be
the Father of Truth," so now I leave the judgment between
Fr. Harper and me to the sure future.

' Father Mazio said of my " Development," " I do not
know how it is, but so it is, that all these startling things,
Mr. Newman brings them round at the end to a good con-
clusion," and so now the Quarterly (if I recollect) talks in a
kind sense of my surprises, and the Edinburgh of my
audacity. I do not mean myself to surprise people or to be
audacious, but somehow, now at the end of life, I have from
experience a confidence in myself, and, (though with little of
St. Cyprian's sanctity, but with more of truth, as I trust, in
my cause) I am led to take to myself some portion of the
praise given him in Keble's line, and to "trust the lore of
my own loyal heart." I trust to having some portion of an
" inductive sense," founded in right instincts.

' My book is to show that a right moral state of mind
germinates or even generates good intellectual principles.
This proposition rejoices the Quarterly, as if it was a true
principle — it shocks the Edinburgh, as if Pascal and others
were much more philosophical in saying that religion or
religiousness is not ultimately based on reason. And the
Guardian says that whether this view will or will not hold
is the problem now before the intellectual world, which
coming years is to decide. Let those, who think I ought to
be answered, those Catholics, first master the great difficulty,
the great problem, and then, if they don't like my way of
meeting it find another. Syllogizing won't meet it.

' You see then I have not the very shadow of a reason
against Fr. Harper's future papers, as I think they will all
go ultimately, after I am gone, to the credit of my work.

' While I say this, of course I am sensible it may be full
of defects, and certainly characterized by incompleteness and

•THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT ' (1870) 271

crudeness, but it is something to have started a problem, and
mapped in part a country, if I have done nothing more,

* Yours most sincerely,

John H. Newman.'

It was a fact of great importance at the moment that
W. G. Ward, who had opposed Newman so strongly on the
question of Papal claims, welcomed the ' Grammar ' enthu-
siastically in an article in the Dublin Review. W. G. Ward's
reputation for staunch orthodoxy made this fact largely
outweigh in the general Catholic mind the opposition to it
on the part of Father Harper, the Jesuit, in the Month, on the
lines of scholastic philosophy.

W. G. Ward helped the immediate acceptance of the
book both by intimating his concurrence with its general line
of thought, and by pointing out that some of the views set
forth by Newman and criticised by such modern scholastics
as Father Harper had been already urged by the best
thinkers among the schoolmen. Moreover, Mr. Ward wrote
the following statement — vivid if slightly paradoxical — of
the general difficulty which Newman's book was designed to
answer, a difficulty which its hostile Catholic critics appeared
not to apprehend, and to which they certainly did not offer
any alternative solution.

' Catholics are taught (so the non-Christian philosopher
objects) to regard it as a sacred duty that they shall hold,
most firmly and without a shadow of doubt, the truth of
certain marvels which are alleged to have taken place nine-
teen centuries ago. As to examining the evidence for those
truths, the great mass of Catholics are of course philo-
sophically uncultured and simply incompetent to such a task.
But even were they competent thereto, they are prevented
from attempting it. Except a select few of them, they are
all forbidden to read or knowingly to hear one syllable of
argument on the other side. Under such circumstances,
proof for their creed they can have none ; any more than a
judge can have proof who has only heard witnesses on one
side, and them not cross-examined. So far from propor-
tioning their assent to the evidence on which their doctrine
rests, the assent claimed from them is the very highest, while
the evidence afforded them is less than the least.

' But take even any one of the select few who are per-
mitted to study both sides of the question. He will tell you

272 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

quite frankly that his belief was as firm before his exami-
nation as it is now ; nay, and that he regards it as a sin,
which unrepented would involve him in eternal misery, if he
allowed himself so much as one deliberate doubt on the
truth of Catholicity, I place before him some serious diffi-
culty, which tells against the most central facts of his
religion : he had never heard of the difficulty before, and
he is not now at all sure that he will be able to answer it.
I should have expected, were it not for my knowledge of
Catholics, that the confidence of his conviction would be
diminished by this circumstance ; for, plainly, an unanswered
difficulty is no slight abatement from the body of proof on
which his creed reposes. But he says unblushingly that if
he were to study for ten years without seeing how to meet
the point I have suggested, his belief in his Church, whose
claim of authority he recognizes as divinely authorized,
would be in no respect or degree affected by the circum-
stance.

' Nor is it for themselves alone, but for all mankind, that
Catholics prescribe this rebellion against reason. They
maintain that every human being, to whom their Gospel is
preached, is under an obligation of accepting with firmest
faith the whole mass of Catholic facts — the miraculous Con-
ception, Resurrection, Ascension, etc. ; while it is simply
undeniable that 999 out of every 1000 are absolutely
incapable of appreciating ever so distantly the evidence on
which these facts are alleged to repose.

' Nor, to do them justice, do they show the slightest
disposition to conceal or veil their maxims. The Vatican
Council itself has openly anathematized all those who shall
allege that Catholics may lawfully suspend their judgment
on the truth of Catholicity, until they have obtained for
themselves scientific proof of its truth.'

* I have no general prejudice against Catholics ; on the
contrary, I think many of them possess some first-rate
qualities. But while their avowed intellectual maxims are
those above recited, I must regard them as external to the
pale of intellectual civilization. I have no more ground on
which I can argue with a Catholic than I have ground on
which I can argue with a savage.'

' 'Si quis dixerit parem esse conditionem fidelium, etc., it.i ut Catholici
justamcausam habere possint fidem,quam subEcclesiae magisteriojamsusceperunt,
assensu suspense in dubium vocandi donee demonstralionem scientificam credi-
bilitatis et veritalis fidci suae absolverint, anathema sit.' — Dei Filiiis^ c. 3,
canon 6.

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 273

In private, as well as in public, W. G. Ward expressed
his admiration of the work, and spoke of it as forming the
basis of a new and important Catholic philosophy. He
wrote his congratulations to the author, and Newman replied
to him as follows :

' My dear Ward, — It is a very great pleasure to me to
receive your letter, both as expressing a favourable opinion
of my book and as recording a point of agreement between
us on an important subject. It would be strange indeed if I
were not quite aware, as I am, that there are portions of my
theory which require finishing or revising. I expect it to be
my last work, meaning by work labour and toil,

* Yours affectionately in Christ,

John H. Newman.'

To Aubrey de Vere he wrote to much the same effect :

' You must not think that I am sure myself that I have
done any great thing — for I have felt very little confidence
in it— though words like yours, and you are not the only
person who has used such, are a very great encouragement to
me — but I could not help feeling that I had something to
give out whatever its worth, and I felt haunted with a sort of
responsibility, and almost a weight on my conscience, if I
did not speak it, and yet I could not. So that it is the
greatest possible relief at length to have got it off my
mind — as if I heard the words " he has done what he could."
And, while I say this, I really am not taking for granted
that your favourable criticism is the true one — and I
recollect that what a man thinks his best work is often his
worst. But then I think, too, that sometimes a man's
failures do more good to the world or to his cause than his
best successes — and then I feel as if I could die happier now
that I have no Essay on Assent to write, and I think I shall
never write another work, meaning by work a something
which is an anxiety and a labour. " Man goeth forth to his
work and to his labours until the evening," and my evening
is surely come — though not my night.'

W. G. Ward pursued the subject in the Dublin Review in
several articles. He owned to certain minor differences with
Newman's book. But, as I have said, he insisted not only
upon its value, but on the consistency of its most character-
istic positions with views held by the greater schoolmen of
earlier and more recent times. He chose Father Kleutgen
VOL. II. T

274 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

to represent the latter and de Lugo the former. On the
knowledge of God through Conscience, and on the quasi-
instinctive apprehension by the religious mind ' with a heart
and an eye for truth ' of the reasons both for Theism and for
Christianity, his citations were equally effective.'

This article in the Dtiblin told strongly in favour of the
view that there was nothing in Newman's treatment different
in kind from that of the really great Catholic thinkers,
scholastic or other ; that the opposition to his book came
mainly from those who were not thinkers— who judged
only by traditional modes of expression which were current
in the text-books, without realising the ideas which were
involved.

The book had a wide circulation, and was read in the
families which specially loved its author, by those who did
not understand it as well as by those who did.

' I am glad you like my Grammar of Assent,' Newman
writes to a friend, ' and am amused that you should turn it
to the purposes of educating Margaret. " Thirty days hath

' Against those who objected to Newman's speaking of our knowledge of God
througli Conscience as though it were a heterodox doctrine of Divine immanence
he could quote with effect the words of Kleutgen that God ' makes Himself felt
within us by his moral law as an August Power to which we are subject.'
Against those who objected that Newman's ' illative sense ' placed reason on a
level with irrational instinct he quoted the words of the same writer : • how mam-
truths there are concerning duty, concerning nature and art, which a man of good
judgment knows with perfect accuracy without being distinctly cognisant how he
passes in successive judgments from one truth to another.' Kleutgen goes i>o far
as to use the very word ' instinct ' of the spontaneous knowledge of God of which
Newman had spoken as coming to us through our Conscience. He represents
the object of a philosophy of Theism as being to show that the instinct is
rational. 'Why,' he writes, 'should not science take as the object of its re-
searches thnt knowledge of God which we instinctively possess , . . philosophy
is able and is bound to show that that method of reasoning from the world's
existence to God's to which our intellect is spontaneously impelled, is conformable
to the clearly known laws of our thought.'

De Lugo speaks expressly of the illative sense as * virtus inteliectus et
voluntatis, ut uno actu brevissimo et subtilissimo attingant compendiosc totam
illam seriem motivorum,' etc.

W. G. Ward himself goes a step further in Newman's direction, maintaining
that even after philosophy has done its best, the still unanalysed motives for
belief — its ' implicit grounds ' as he calls them — remain the strongest in the
evidences for Christianity and Catholicity, as the Conscience presents the strongest
argument for Theism.

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 275

September " and the Multiplication Table will do no harm,
Reading itself is only a trick of artificial memory,'

He had, as we have seen, been especially anxious to help
those who, from their own lack of technical knowledge, were
tried by the popular arguments of the day against religious
belief. He was gratified to find that the chapter on Certitude
had had just the effect he desired in the case of his friend
Miss Holmes :

' It will please mc much,' he writes to her on March 26,
*if you say of the last 100 pages what you say for the
chapter on certitude — for they were written especially for
those who can't go into questions of the inspiration of
Scripture, authenticity of books, passages in the Fathers, &c,
&c. — especially for such ladies as are bullied by infidels and
do not know how to answer them — a misfortune which I fear
is not rare in this day. I wanted to show that, keeping
to broad facts of history, which everyone knows and no one
can doubt, there is evidence and reason enough for an honest
inquirer to believe in revelation.'

He sent the book also to those who felt the deficiencies
of current apologetic — who desiderated a more candid obser-
vation of facts, in dealing with the mixed subjects covered by
apologetic and theology. Many Catholic writers seemed to
him to apply exclusively the deductive method, belonging
to theology proper, to fields in which historical evidence is
both weighty and relevant. The appositeness and value of
the Baconian method appeared to be ignored by them. The
' Grammar of Assent,' with its minute psychological observa-
tions, was a step in the desired direction, and Newman sent
it to one who had expressed to him the above criticism. In
reply to his enthusiastic letter of thanks Newman wrote as
follows :

* My dear Sir, — I thank you for the very kind way in
which you have received my book,

'The only drawback to my satisfaction is that you expect
much more from it than you will find. You have truly said
that we need a Novum Organuni for theology, and I shall be
truly glad if I shall be found to have made any suggestion
which will aid the formation of such a calculus. But it must
be the strong conception and the one work of a great genius,

276 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

not the obiter attempt of a person like myself who has
already attempted many things and is at the end of his days.
' 1 am, my dear Sir,

Most truly yours,

John H. Newman.'

The author had opportunities of learning the effect of his
book on persons in doubt. One such reader expressed her
objections to its line of argument in a letter to Mr. Brownlow,
forwarded by him to Newman, who thus replied :

'The Oratory : April 29, 1871.

' , . . As you will see, she confuses the conclusion from
evidence, with the act of asse?tt which depends on the will.
No one on earth can have evidence strictly sufficient for an
absolute conclusion, but I may have evidence so strong that
I may see it is my duty to give my absolute assent to it,
I have not absolute demonstration that my father was not
a murderer, or my intimate friend a sharper, but it would
not only be heartless, but irrational, not to disbelieve these
hypotheses or possibilities titterly — and, anyhow, in matter of
fact men generally do disbelieve them absolutely — and there-
fore the Church, as the Minister of God, asks us for nothing
more in things supernatural than common sense, than nature
asks of us in matters of this world. I believe absolutely that
there is a North America — and that the United States is a
Republic with a President— why then do I not absolutely
believe, though I see it not, that there is a Heaven and that
God is there ? If you say that there is more evidence for the
United States than for Heaven, that is intelligible — but it is
not a question of more or less ; since the utDiost evidence
only leads to probability and yet you believe absolutely in
the United States, it is no reason against believing in heaven
absolutely, though you have not " experience " of it. But
you have said all this to her.

' She says there are persons who are certain of the
C'hristian religion because they have strictly proved it — no one
is certain for this reason. Every one believes by an act of
will, more or less ruling his intellect (as a matter of duty) to
believe absolutely beyond the evidence,

' She says " acts of certitude are always made about
things of which our senses or our reasons do, or can take
cognizance "—our senses do not tell us that there is a
" United States " and our reason does not demonstrate it,
only makes it probable. Trj- to analyze the reasons %vhy

'THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT' (1870) 277

one believes in the United States. VVc not only do not,
but we could not make a demonstration ; yet we assent
absolutely,

' " How can any human testimony make me quite certain
that I am hearing a message from God ? " None can, but
human testimony may be such as to make me see it is my
duty to be certain. Action is distinct [from] a conclusion —
yet a conclusion may be such as to make me see that action
is a duty — and so belief is not a conclusion — yet [a conclusion]
may be such as to make me see that belief is a duty — And,
as I cannot act merely because I ought to act, so I cannot
believe merely because I ought to believe.

' I may wish both to act and to believe — though I can
do neither — and, as I ask God for grace to enable me to act,
so I ask Him for grace to enable me to believe.

' " It is the gift of God — why does He not give it me ? "
Because you do not perseveringly come to Him for the gift,
and do your part by putting aside all those untrue and
unreal and superfluous arguings.

'" To see and touch the supernatural with the eye of my
soul, with its own experience, this is what I want to do."
Yes, it is — You wish to " Walk, not by faith, but by sight."
If you had experience, how would it h^ faith ?

' Of course every one must begin with reason. If your
friend cannot bring herself to feel that what I have said
above, which is what our theologians say, is so far rational
that she is bound to act on it, I do not see what can be said.
But I think it plain that she is no fit recipient of the
Sacraments, unless she feels that faith is ever more than, ever
distinct from, an inference from premisses, and tries and prays
and desires with all her heart to exercise it. But, while she
persists in saying that it is irrational, or unreasonable, or
unphilosophical, or unjustifiable, because it is more than
reason, that is, more than an inference, while she thinks that
in order to be true to the law of her mind, to nature, to
herself, she must not aijn at any belief stronger than the
premisses, whereas human nature, human sense, and the laws
of the mind, just say the reverse, I don't think she can be
absolved.

' I have answered you to the best of my ability, and pray-
ing the Giver of all grace to guide you and to disenchant
her, for she is like a fly in a spider's web.

'John H. Newman.'

Six months after the 'Grammar' was published, Newman
wrote as follows in his journal :

278 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Oct. 30, 1870. How unpleasant it is to read former
memoranda — I can't quite tell why. They read affected,
unreal, egotistical, petty, fussy. There is much in the above,
which I should tear out and burn, if I did as I wi.shed. One
writes in particular humours — Perhaps if I looked over it six
months hence, I should like what now I don't like. I wonder
whether I shall burn it all when I am going to die. Perhaps
I shall leave it for what is valuable in it.

' Since I published my Essay on Assent last March, I
have meant to make a memorandum on the subject of it. It
is the upshot of a very long desire and effort — I don't know
the worth of it, but I am happier to have at length done it
and got it off my hands. Authors (or at least I) can as
little foretell what their books will be before they are written,
as fathers can foretell whether their children will be boys or
girls, dark or fair, gentle or fiery, clever or stupid. The book
itself I have aimed at writing these twenty years ;— and now
that it is written I do not quite recognise it for what it was
meant to be, though I suppose it is such. I have made more
attempts at writing it than I can enumerate. . . .

' These attempts, though some of them close upon others,
were, I think, all distinct. They were like attempts to get
into a labyrinth, or to find the weak point in the defences
of a fortified place. I could not get on, and found myself
turned back, utterly baffled. Yet I felt I ought to bring out
what my mind saw, but could not grasp, whatever it was
worth. I don't say it is worth much, now that it has come
out, but I felt as if I did not like to die before I had said it.
It may suggest something better and truer than it to another,,
though worth little in itself Thus I went on year after year.
At last, when I was up at Glion over the Lake of Geneva, it
struck me : " You are wrong in beginning with certitude —
certitude is only a kind of assent — you should begin with
contrasting assent and inference." On that hint I spoke,
finding it a key to my own ideas.'

CHAPTER XXIX

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870)

It is sometimes suggested that Newman's line of action
in 1869 and 1870 in connection with the Vatican Council
was an episode in his life which showed a certain deficiency
in whole-hearted lo\-alty to the Holy See, and were best
forgotten by his admirers. His letters show that he him-
self took a very different view from this even after all the
excitement of controversy had subsided. If ever he acted
against his inclinations and from a stern sense of duty it was
at this crisis. He had a full consciousness that many good
but not far-seeing people, whom he respected, would condemn
his attitude. He was opposing what was put forward as
being the wish of a Pontiff whom he especially loved and
revered for his personal qualities even apart from his sacred
office. But throughout he believed himself to be defending
the interests of Catholic theology against extremists who were
— without realising the effects of their action — setting it aside.
Like Archbishop Sibour, he was pleading the cause of the
immemorial constitution of the Church against the innova-
tions of advocates of a new absolutism. An Ecumenical
Council, according to Catholic theology, involves genuine
deliberation. He had been invited by the Pontiff himself to
contribute material towards this deliberation. He was con-
stantly consulted by Bishop UUathorne, Bishop Clifford,
Bishop Dupanloup, and other prelates. He had then the
call, in his own sphere, to make a real contribution to the
process of deliberation — that is to say, to declare what his
own judgment was, but with the full intention of submitting
to the Church when it had decided the matter. The Pope
was constantly approached with representations on behalf
of one view of the question : was it not only fair, reasonable.

28o LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

and loyal to bring before him and the Council the full force
of another view held by many of the Bishops themselves ?

As we have seen, there were men of influence who were
speaking as though truth was to be directly revealed by the
Holy Spirit to the Council, and scientific theology, and
deliberation with a view to exactness of expression, were
unimportant. Against this growing tendency he entered his
earnest protest by word and by deed. No doubt his protest
was regarded by men whose education was not equal to
their piety as showing a want of confidence in the Holy
Spirit's guidance. So, too, Silas Marncr deemed it a want of
faith to doubt that the Holy Spirit would interfere by preter-
natural agencies to guide the decision by lot. And when
that decision turned out to be false he lost his faith in God.
Such is the Nemesis which follows the identification of God's
guidance with the beliefs of the superstitious as to its
nature and degree. The very fact that Newman's protest
was objected to showed how necessary it was, and how the
commonplaces of theology were being practically dis-
regarded. He was but acting on the words he had himself
written five j'ears earlier, in the ' Apologia,' on the determining
factors in the proceedings of Ecumenical Councils. The
Fathers, he wrote, 'have been guided in their decisions by
the commanding genius of individuals, sometimes young and
of inferior rank. Not,' he added, ' that uninspired intellect
overruled the superhuman gift which was committed to the
Council, which would be a self-contradictory assertion, but
that in that process of enquiry and deliberation which ended
in an infallible enunciation individual effort was paramount.'
He gave the instances of Malchion, a mere presbyter, at the
Council of Antioch ; of Athanasius, a deacon, at Nicea ; of
Salmeron, a priest, at Trent. That he himself, though a mere
priest, should, when invited to contribute to the theological
deliberations preliminary to the Vatican Council, do his best
to make them real — that he should do something very
different from merely uncritically acquiescing in the treat-
ment of a definition of doctrine which involved a state-
ment of historical fact, as though it were, in his own words,
' a luxury of devotion ' — was, then, to be true to Catholic
practice in the past in the face of dangerous innovation.

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 281

And, moreover, while the principle of full deliberation was
the tradition in possession, it was also more than ever neces-
sary now when historical criticism was so rapidly gaining in
accuracy, and so many acute and jealous eyes would test
and criticise the proceedings of the Council.

For a moment he had hesitated whether he should not
accept the invitation of the Holy Father and Monsignor
Dupanloup to attend at Rome in person for the theological
conferences in which the schemata of the Council were to be
prepared. But in the event he had declined.

' Don't be annoyed,' he wrote to Sister Maria Pia on
February 10, 1869. * I am more happy as I am, than in any
other way. I can't bear the kind of trouble which I should
have, if I were brought forward in any public way. Recollect,
I could not be in the Council, unless I were a Bishop — and
really and truly I am not a theologian. A theologian is one
who has mastered theology — who can say how many
opinions there are on every point, what authors have taken
which, and which is the best — who can discriminate exactly
between proposition and proposition, argument and argu-
ment, who can pronounce which are safe, which allowable,
which dangerous — who can trace the history of doctrines in
successive centuries, and apply the principles of former
times to the conditions of the present. This it is to be a
theologian — this and a hundred things besides — which I am
not, and never shall be. Like St. Gregory Nazianzen, I like
going on my own way, and having my time my own, living
without pomp or state, or pressing engagements. Put me
into official garb, and I am worth nothing ; leave me to
myself, and every now and then I shall do something. Dress
me up, and you will soon have to make my shroud — leave
me alone, and I shall live the appointed time.

* Now do take this in, as a sensible nun.'

However, while declining an official position, such aid as
he could give by correspondence with individual Bishops he
was ready and anxious to afford.

There were two doctrines of the utmost delicacy which
the Council proposed to treat — the Inspiration of Scripture
and Papal Infallibility, To treat them with a full knowledge
of the facts relevant to their accurate interpretation and
exposition, so that the world should see that the definitions

282 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

were entirely consistent with the historical and physical science
of the day, needed full and careful deliberation.

His greatest anxiety, of course, related to the proposed
definition of Papal Infallibility, It appeared to him that the
untheological school were trying to force a strong definition
secretly, without due discussion, without facing the historical
facts with which it must be reconciled — seeking mainly
to express their devotional beliefs, and in doing so perhaps
rendering an effective defence of the doctrine most difficult
for Catholics in the future. His cry was in effect 'Stop
this post-haste movement and give us time.' He considered
that imperiousness and unfairness marked the proceedings
of some of the most energetic promoters of the definition.
To write at length on so wide a subject would need on his
part long and laborious scientific investigation. For this no
time was given. He could only cry out, and try and arouse
the Bishops to a sense of the danger. He communicated
with many of them privately. This was within the clear limit
of his locus standi, for they asked his opinion. He seems to
have hesitated as to the allowableness of writing publicly.
But anyhow there was no time to write with any effect.

Before taking in order the events of the months pre-
ceding the definition, it may be well to give a few extracts
from letters written in their course which illustrate the
above account of his habitual feeling. When portions of a
letter to Bishop Ullathorne in which he strongly criticised
some of the promoters of the definition afterwards found their
way into the newspapers, Father Coleridge urged him to write
a pamphlet designed for the public. Newman thus replied :

' Of course a pamphlet would have been far better than
such a letter, but I was distinctly dissuaded from publishing ;
and then I asked myself this question — " Can anything I say
move a single Bishop? And if not, what is the good of
writing ? " And this is the great charge which I bring
ao^ainst the immediate authors of this movement, iJiat they
have not given us tinie. Why must we be hurried all of a
sudden, to write or not to write? Why is a coup de main to
settle the matter before we know where we are ? What
could such as I do, but cry out, bawl, make violent gestures,
as you would do, if you saw a railway engine running over
some unhappy workman on the line } What time was there

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 283

for being scientific ? What could you do but collar a Bishop,
if you could get up to one ? The beginning and end of my
thoughts about the Council is : " You are going too fast,
you are going too fast." '

The extreme party were, Newman held, playing into the
hands of the Church's enemies, who desired a definition which
should be a reductio ad absurdum of Papal claims. The
gradual spread of Catholic doctrines in England, of late years
so promising, would, he feared, inevitably be checked if it
should be passed. He wrote to Mr. Brownlow, contrasting
the circumstances of this impending definition with those of
the definition of 1854 :

' As to the Immaculate Conception, by contrast there was
nothing sudden, or secret, in the proposal of definition in
that case. It had been talked about years out of mind — and
was approached, every one knowing it, by step after step.
This has taken us all by surprise.

' The Protestant and Infidel Press, so far from taking part
with Mgr. Dupanloup, have backed up all along the extreme
party — and now all through the country are taking an
argumentative position against me.

' The existing Ritualists may or may not be put back —
but the leavening of the country will be checked.'

• It is very pleasant to me,' he wrote to Canon Walker,
'to find you have hopes of the Council abstaining in a matter
on which, I fear, the Pope has set his heart. What I dread
is haste — if full time is given for the Synodal Fathers to
learn and reflect on the state of the case, I have little doubt
they will keep clear of the dangerous points.'

To Mrs. F. Ward he wrote thus :

' This is certainly a most anxious time of suspense. . .
Councils have ever been times of great trial — and this seems
likely to be no exception. It was always held that the
conduct of individuals who composed them was no measure
of the authority of their result. We are sure, as in the case
of the administration of the Sacraments, that the holiness of
actors in them is not a necessary condition of God's working
by means of them. Nothing can be worse than the conduct
of many in and out of the Council who are taking the side
which is likely to prevail.'

Two more extracts bring before us another side of
his view. He regarded Archbishop Manning's unceasing

284 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

advocacy of the definition as a kind of fixed idea, character-
istic of his occasionally mystical and apocalyptic way of
writing and thinking. Such a manner of looking at things
did not inspire Newman with confidence.

' I don't think Dr. Manning has put on any " spectacles," '
he wrote to Canon Jenkins. ' He says what he thinks, and
knows what he is about. I cannot help thinking he holds
that the world is soon coming to an end — and that he is in
consequence careless about the souls of future generations
which will never be brought into being. I can fancy a
person thinking it a grand termination (I don't mean that
he so thinks) to destroy every ecclesiastical power but the
Pope and let Protestants shift for themselves.'

On the other hand, while the enforcement of strict views

was in such a one as Manning a congenial indulgence,

Newman foresaw results of the general policy which was

being pursued quite opposite to the intention of those who

pursued it. Their object was to bring free-lances into line.

Newman held that the general policy of narrowing the terras

of communion would have in many cases — and indeed had

actually had — just the opposite effect. Acute minds which

if allowed a reasonable freedom might be kept within due

limits, would run to really unallowable excesses in their

angry reaction against what they held to be tyranny. Mr.

Ffoulkes was writing indignantly against the Council. Acton

and Wetherell were using language in the North British Review

of which Newman could not approve. People were saying to

Newman — ' Here are your friends of the Home and Foreign

— see what they are writing ! Were we not indeed justified in

checking them and in censuring the Review ? ' Newman held

just the opposite — that excesses were not necessarily the

index of an attitude which existed from the first, but embodied

a reaction and protest, indefensible but natural, against

tyrannous repression. And, while disapproving of the actors

in this protest, their excesses had or might prove to have (he

seems to have thought) good consequences in bringing home

to those in authority the danger of drawing the reins too

tight.

'There are those,' he wrote to Mrs. Froude, 'who have
been taking matters witli a very high hand and with much of

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 285

silent intrigue for a considerable time, and such ways of going
on bring with them their retribution. This does not defend
the actors in that retribution. Ffoulkes is behaving very ill
— but he is the " Nemesis," as they call it, of a policy, which
I cannot admire. Nor do I like the new NortJi British —
but it too is the retributive consequence of tyranny. All will
work for good ; and, if we keep quiet. Providence will fight
for us, and set things right.' ^

Early in the year 1869 Newman received some con-
firmation of his fears that an exaggerated and untheological
view of the nature of Papal Infallibility was current in
highest quarters. Sir John Simeon forwarded to Newman
some notes received from Mr. Odo Russell, at that time
British Minister in Rome, of a conversation with Cardinal
Antonelli on April 23, in which the Cardinal was repre-
sented as taking the exaggerated view in question. Would
the Council (Newman asked himself), if it passed the
definition, appear to the world to endorse such an

1 It is to be observed that in writing to Anglican friends lie emphasised the good
which the Council was Hkely to effect. He wrote thus to J. R. Bloxam :

'The Oratory: Feb. 22, 1S70.

' My dear Bloxam, — My best thanks for your very affectionate letter. I shall
rejoice to find you in this neighbourhood, and I hope it will be when the leaves
are out that I may show you our Retreat at Rednal, as you have shown me yours
at Beeding. There is but one drawback. I wish you could obliterate it, that at
length, at length Birnam Wood would come to Dunsinane.

' As to this Council, Sihowt facts, I know little more than you do, but as to my
expectations, I think untold good will come of it — first, as is obvious, in bringing
into personal acquaintance men from the most distant parts. The moral power
of the Church (of Rome) will be almost squared by this fact alone — next each part
will know the state of things in other parts of Christendom ; and the minds of
all the Prelates will be enlarged as well as their hearts. They will learn sympathy
and reliance on each other. Further, the authorities at Rome will learn a great
deal which they did not know of, and since the Italian apprehension is most
imaginative and vivid, this will be a wonderful gain. It must have a great influence
on the election of the next Pope, when that takes place. Then further the
religious influence of so great an occasion, of so rare and wonderful a situation,
of such a realization of things unseen, must, through God's mercy, leave a
permanent deep impression on the minds of all assembled. Nor can I believe that
so awful a visitation, in the supernatural order, as a renewal of the day of Pente-
cost, when it is granted to them, will not make them all new men for the rest of
their lives.

' They have come to Rome with antagonistic feelings, they will depart in
the peace of God. I don't think much will come of the movement for Papal
Infallibility, though something very mild may be passed.

Ever yours affectionately,

(Signed) John H. Newman.

*P.S. You must not suppose from anything I have said that I do not
sympathize with the Bishop of Orleans ; for I do.'

286 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

extravagant view ? Here was a matter for most grave
anxiety.

Bishop Dupanloup and very many French and German
prelates shared Newman's anxiety. Archbishop Manning,
on the other hand, issued pastoral after pastoral in favour of
the definition, and W. G. Ward in the course of the year
published his pamphlet ' De Infallibilitatis Extensione,' which,
being in Latin, was widely read by foreign theologians
as well as English. Dupanloup, in a letter to his clergy
issued in November, attacked both Manning and Ward.
Echoing the complaint of the Jesuit Pere Daniel in
France, and of Father Ryder in England, he deprecated
the fact that ' intemperate journalists ' insisted on ' opening
debates on one of the most delicate subjects and answering
beforehand in what sense the Council would decide and
should decide.' The public mind thus became filled with
an extravagant idea of what Papal Infallibility meant ;
and the definition was inopportune because it would be
misunderstood.

In respect of Mr. Ward's special share in the controversy,
the Bishop strongly censured his contention that the Pontiff
may speak infallibly in letters addressed, not to the whole
Church, but to an individual Bishop.

Again, Ward had ascribed infallibility to a number of
documents on the ground that they contained condemnations
reproduced by the Syllabus, and he maintained that all
Catholics were bound to believe this. Afterwards, in deference
to the opinion of Roman theologians, as we have already seen,
he retracted this assertion. Dupanloup at once seized on the
retractation. If even a theological expert like Ward could
make such a mistake, how much more could others ! What
an argument for leaving so subtle a question to time, and to
the safer process of discussion among theologians, whose
ultimate decision would have the advantage of the fullest
consideration of pros and cons ! What a proof that a true
view of Papal Infallibility was inseparable from the constitu-
tional methods habitually employed ! The Pope was indeed
infallible ; but the exact knowledge of what he taught
infallibly, and when he taught infallibly, came to the faithful,
in the cases which his own words might well leave doubtful,

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 287

not through the rapid private judgment of an individual,
however able, or of a single public writer for his readers, but
through the gradual operation of the learning and knowledge
of the Church as a whole.

Here, then, Dupanloup ' noted, what Cardinal Newman
has so constantly pointed out, the functions of the Church,
as represented by the Bishops and the theological school, in
determining the force and interpreting the meaning of Papal
declarations, as well as in assisting the Pope in the delibera-
tions preparatory to definitions — functions so strangely ignored
or minimised by the extreme party. Many of the Infallibilists
appeared to be in the same position as some supporters of the
majority at the Council of Ephesus. These men, in their
zeal against the Nestorians, who denied that Jesus Christ was
a Divine Person, fell into the opposite error of denying that
He had a human soul and human nature. They became the
founders of the Monophysite heresy.

Newman's fears persisted up to the time of the definition
itself. The accredited organs of Rome, the Civiltd Cattolica
at their head, used language which foreshadowed some such
definition as could seem called for only to satisfy the ex-
travagant devotional feeling towards the Papacy, of which
some exhibitions have been cited above from the columns of
the Univers. Newman was in frequent correspondence with
Bishop Ullathorne, and wrote him a letter in January 1870,
in which he expressed fully his feelings of dismay and
indignation. The letter ran as follows :

^Private. January 28th, 1870.

' My dear Lord, — I thank your Lordship ver}^ heartily for
your most interesting and seasonable letter. Such letters
(if they could be circulated) would do much to re-assure the
many minds which are at present disturbed when they look
towards Rome. Rome ought to be a name to lighten the
heart at all times, and a Council's proper office is, when some
great heresy or other evil impends, to inspire the faithful with
hope and confidence. But now we have the greatest meeting
which has ever been, and that in Rome, infusing into us by
the accredited organs of Rome (such as the Civiltd, the
Armonia, the Univers, and the Tablet) little else than fear

' The text of Dupanloup's remarks is given in IV. G. Ward and the Catholic
Revival, pp. 256 seq.

288 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

and dismay. Where we are all at rest and have no doubts,
and, at least practically, not to say doctrinally, hold the Holy
Father to be infallible, suddenly there is thunder in the clear
sky, and we are told to prepare for something, we know not
what, to try our faith, wc know not how. No impending
danger is to be averted, but a great difficulty is to be created.
Is this the proper work for an Ecumenical Council ? As to
myself personally, please God, I do not expect any trial at
all, but I cannot help suffering with the various souls that are
suffering. I look with anxiety at the pro.spect of having to
defend decisions which may not be difficult to my private
judgment, but may be most difficult to defend logically in the
face of historical facts. What have we done to be treated as
the Faithful never were treated before .-' When has definition
of doctrine de fide been a luxury of devotion and not a stern
painful necessity? Why should an aggressive and insolent
faction be allowed to make the hearts of the just to mourn
whom the Lord hath not made sorrowful ? Why can't we be
let alone when we have pursued peace and thought no evil }
I assure you, my dear Lord, some of the truest minds are
driven one way and another, and do not know where to rest
their feet ; one day determining to give up all theology as a
bad job and recklessly to believe henceforth almost that the
Pope is impeccable ; at another tempted to believe all the
worst that a book like Janus says ; at another doubting about
the capacity possessed by Bishops drawn from all corners of
the earth to judge what is fitting for European society, and
then again angry with the Holy See for listening to the
flattery of a clique of Jesuits, Redemptorists and Converts.
Then again think of the score of Pontifical scandals in the
history of eighteen centuries which have partly been poured
out, and partly are still to come out. What Murphy inflicted
upon us in one way, M. Veuillot is indirectly bringing on us
in another. And then again the blight which is falling upon
the multitude of Anglican ritualists, who themselves perhaps,
or at least their leaders, may never become Catholics, but
who are leavening the various English parties and denomi-
nations (far beyond their own range) with principles and
sentiments tending towards their ultimate adoption into the
Catholic Church.

' With these thoughts before me, I am continually asking
myself whether I ought not to make my feelings public ; but
all I do is to pray those great early Doctors of the Church,
whose intercession would decide the matter, — Augustine and
the rest, — to avert so great a calamity. If it is God's Will

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 289

that the Pope's Infallibih'ty should be defined, then it is His
Blessed Will to throw back the times and the moments of
that triumph He has destined for His Kingdom ; and I shall
feel I have but to bow my head to His Adorable Inscrutable
Providence. You have not touched on the subject yourself,
but I think you will allow me to express to you feelings
which for the most part I keep to myself . . .

'John H. Newman.'

In the course of March, extracts from this letter found
their way into the Standard newspaper — how they became
public is not known. The passage in v^hich the words
' aggressive and insolent faction ' occur was printed. Newman
wrote to the Standard denying that he had used the
words, insisting that the letter was a private one, yet not
disclaiming its sentiments.

He wrote at the same time to Dr. Moriarty, Bishop of
Kerry, an active opponent of the definition, in much the
same sense as he had written to Dr. Ullathorne :

' The Oratory : March 20th, 1870.

'My dear Lord, — I am continually thinking of you and
your cause. I look upon you as the special band of con-
fessors, who are doing God's work at this time in a grave
crisis ; who, I trust, will succeed in your effort, but who
cannot really fail — both because you are at the very least
diminishing the nature and weight of the blow which is
intended by those whom you oppose, and also because your
resistance must bear fruit afterwards, even though it fails at
the moment. If it be God's will that some definition in
favour of the Pope's infallibility is passed, I then should at
once submit — but up to that very moment I shall pray most
heartily and earnestly against it. Any how, I cannot bear
to think of the tyrannousness and cruelty of its advocates —
for tyrannousness and cruelty it will be, though it is
successful. . . .

' The Standard has been saying that I have written to
Bp. of Birmingham at Rome, speaking of the advocates of
Papal Infallibility as an " insolent aggressive faction " — this
I certainly have not done — though I do in my heart think
some advocates, e.g. the Univers, insolent and aggressive.
Certainly I do. Think of the way in which the P'rench
Bishops have been treated. I wrote to Dr. Ullathorne last
Monday, feeling, that, though I had not used those words, yet
the person who wrote the Standard word about me certainly
VOL. II. U

290 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

had seen my letter to him. Here no one knew anything of
what I said to the Bishop but Fr. St. John — and both he and
I have kept a dead silence about it all along.

' I don't give up hope, till the very end, the bitter end ;
and am always praying about it to the great doctors of the
Church. Anyhow, we shall owe you and others a great debt.
' My dear Lord

Ever yours affecly in Xt,

John H. Newman.'

Sir John Simeon had seen a copy of the letter to
Dr. Ullathorne in which the words ' aggressive and insolent
faction ' did occur, and wrote to Newman at once to say so.

On receiving his letter, Newman again looked at the
rough copy of his letter to Dr. Ullathorne, and found that the
words in question, v.'hich he had overlooked, were really there.
He at once wrote to Simeon :

' The Oratory : March 22nd, 1870.

' My dear Sir John, — I kept a copy of my letter to the
Bishop.

' Before writing to the Standard I referred to it, and
could not find the words in question then.

' Since your letter has come, I have referred again to it,
and I have found them.

* I can only account for my not having seen them the first
time, by the letter being written very badly and interlined.

' Of course I must write to the Standard, but I must take
care how I pick my way or I shall tumble into the mud.

* Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

The following letter from Dr. Newman appeared in the
Standard of the following day :

' .Sir, — In answer to the letter of " The Writer of ' the Pro-
gress of the Council,' " I am obliged to say that he is right,
and I am wrong as to my using the words " insolent and
aggressive faction " in a letter which I wrote to Bishop
Ullathorne. I write to make my apologies to him for
contradicting him.

' I kept the rough copy of this private letter of mine to
the Bishop, and on reading the writer's original statement I
referred to it and did not find there the words in question.

' This morning a friend has written to tell me that
there are copies of the letter in London, and that the words

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 291

certainly are in it. On this I have looked at my copy a
second time, and I must confess that I have found them.

' I can only account for my not seeing them the first time
by my very strong impression that I had not used them in
my letter, confidential as it was, and from the circumstance
that the rough copy is badly written and interlined.

' I learn this morning from Rome that Dr. Ullathorne
was no party to its circulation.

' I will only add that when I spoke of a faction I neither
meant that great body of Bishops who are said to be in
favour of the definition of the doctrine nor any ecclesiastical
order or society external to the Council. As to the Jesuits,
I wish distinctly to state that I have all along separated
them in my mind, as a body, from the movement which I so
much deplore. What I meant by a faction, as the letter
itself shows, was a collection of persons drawn together from
various ranks and conditions in the Church.
' I am, Sir,

Your obedient servant,

John H. Newman.

' March 22nd. '

The following letter to Sir John Simeon shows that
Newman was on the whole glad that his sentiments had
been made public without any responsibility on his own part
for the fact :

' The Oratory : March 27th, 1870.

' My dear Sir John, — As my confidential letter to the
Bishop shows, I have been anxious for some time that an
opportunity of speaking out, which I could not make myself,
should be made for me.

' I could not make it myself, for, as I said to you before,
I am bound to act in my own place as a priest under
authority, and there was no call for my going out of it.

' One thing I could do without impropriety — liberare
animani ineain — to my Bishop, and that I did. I did so
with great deliberation in one of the most private and
confidential letters I ever wrote in my life.

' I am glad I have done it, and moreover, I am not sorry
that, without any responsibility of my own, which I could
not lawfully bring on me, the general drift of what I wrote
has been published.

' Everything hitherto has happened well. It was v&x);
lucky that I was so firmly persuaded I did not use in the
letter the words imputed to me. My persuasion being such,
I felt it to be a simple duty to disown them ; and I could

292 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

not in fairness disown them, without avowing at the same
time, as I did in my letter to the Standard, that, though
I did not use the words, I thought them in my heart. If
I had recognised my own words from the first, I should have
had no opportunity of explaining their meaning, or against
whom they were directed. My two letters to the Standard
have given me two such opportunities.

' Now, however, this is done ; and I feel quite easy, and
need do nothing more.

' There were two reasons which might be urged upon me
for making my views known, viz. — in order that they might
act as a means of influencing some of the Bishops in the
Council, and as a protest against the action of a certain party.
What I have already done, is all that I can, all that I need
do. Would anything more on my part move a single
Bishop "i Would anything more make my mind on the
matter more intelligible to the world ? I think not.

' I will add one thing. I do not at all anticipate any
ultimate dissension. Like a jury, they will sit till they agree.
I have full confidence in the French and German Bishops.

' Ever yours aftectionately,

John H. NeWxMAN.

' P.S. — Certainly I rejoice to hear from you that an
Address protesting against the definition of Infallibility
would, if started, be largely signed : but what have I to do
with such measures, beyond giving my opinion, which I have
done?'

Newman did, however, take one further step, and pub-
lished the whole of the letter of which the Standard had
printed extracts. He refers to its publication in a letter to
Mr. de Lisle :

* My dear Mr. de Lisle, — . . . I am in somewhat of a
mess as you may see from the papers. I sent to our Bishop,
Dr. Ullathorne, at Rome, one of the most confidential letters
that I ever wrote in my life — and, without his fault, it got
out and was shown about Rome. Then, I still unconscious
of the mishap, it travelled to London, and, after circulating
pretty freely, bits of it got into the papers. Meanwhile, it got
to Germany, and there again other bits were published, and
not fairly given, though without bad intention, but from the
natural inaccuracy which attends on reports, when they have
passed through several minds in succession. And then at
length the whole of it, in its length and breadth, has got
published at last.

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 293

' I trust it has thus wriggled into public knowledge, for
some good purpose — though I cannot tell how this will be.
If it leads to some counter demonstration, it will be very sad.
I wish there was a chance of a strong lay petition to our
Bishops to beg them to use their influence at Rome to let
matters alone. But this, I fear, you will pronounce to be
impossible.

'Anxious as I am, I will not believe that the Pope's
Infallibility can be defined at the Council till I see it actually
done. Seeing is believing. We are in God's Hands — not in
the hands of men, however high-exalted. Man proposes,
God disposes. When it is actually done, I will accept it as
His act ; but, till then, I will believe it impossible. One can
but act according to one's best light. Certainly, we at least
have no claim to call ourselves infallible ; still it is our duty
to act as if we were, to act as strongly and vigorously in the
matter, as if it were impossible we could be wrong, to be full
of hope and of peace, and to leave the event to God. This is
right, isn't it ?

' Most sincerely yours,

John H. Newman.'

The end of May saw the Canons of the Council on the
first of the two subjects which caused Newman anxiety — the
inspiration of Scripture. From a letter to Father Coleridge it
would seem that these Canons realised Newman's anticipa-
tions. He had no difficulty in accepting them. But he felt that
they were drawn up with no adequate regard to the urgent
questions which were being raised by contemporary Biblical
criticism. This he evidently deeply regretted. The consequence
was that difficulties which the theologians had not anticipated
in framing the Canons would have to be taken into account in
their interpretation. Eventually no doubt theological explana-
tion would give them an interpretation in some respects
different from what appeared to him their prima facie sense.
But this must be a matter of time. And meanwhile he antici-
pated great difficulties. The Fathers of the Council had not —
so he was credibly informed — intended to make untenable the
views of certain approved theologians which had not ap-
parently been taken into account in the wording of the Canons.
If this were the case the fact would have to be made clear to
hostile critics. It is worth while to remark that the chief point
which Newman in his first letter wishes to see expressly

294 Llt^R OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

allowed for — the use by Moses of pre-existing documents —
is in our own day fully admitted by most theologians. But
Newman evidently wished that at this critical moment such
considerations should have been dealt with by full theological
discussion. A freer and more open debate would have fore-
stalled objections which, as things were, the keener-sighted
Catholic thinkers might have to answer by qualifying the
apparent meaning of the words of the Canons.

The very important letter of which I speak ran as

follows :

' The Oratory : June 7, 1870.

' I have my doubts whether, humanly speaking, those
Canons &c. would ever have been pressed in their actual
wording, if things had not been kept so strangely snug from
first to last. The Pope and the Bishops seem to have left
everything to the Holy Ghost.

'Speaking under correction, there are two new dogmas in
what has been defined about Scripture — ist that Scripture
is inspired. In the decree of Trent the Apostles are declared
to be inspired, and they, thus inspired, are the fountain head
both of tradition and of Scripture. Bouvier, I think, says
that the inspiration in Scripture is not defined, though it is
certissimiim. 2nd that by the Testamenta is meant, not the
Covenants, but the collection of books constituting the Bible :
of which in consequence as well as of the Covenants, God
becomes the " Auctor."

• St. Irenaeus, writing against the Gnostics, who denied
\hQ fewish Dispensation to be the work of God, says that God
was the Auctor Testamenti Veteris, of which testaments he
numbers in one place (I think) five. When the Priscillians
made a row in Spain, the Spanish Bishops against them read
the same formula. Then in the Middle Ages, against the
Manichean Gnostics, Albigenses &c. — the same formula was
used. Thence it came to Florence. Mind, I am writing
from memory, but thus my memory runs.

' When I heard the Canons had been passed — no, it was
when I saw from the Papers that they were threatened, — I,
at once, wrote to a Bishop at Berne, saying what I have said
above — but it was too late. One says God's will be done.
He is wiser than man — but I cannot think that full deliberation
has been had upon the subject — which is necessary, not for the
validity of the decree but for the relief of the responsibility
of those who so passed it. On such important questions why
should not all sides be considered and reviewed ?

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 295

' My friend wrote me back word that he was sure that
the Fathers of the Council never meant to exclude the views of
Lessius, but their words are very Hke exclusion. Can I now
hold that Moses by inspiration selected and put together the
various pre-existing documents which constitute the book
of Genesis ? Are the genealogies all of them inspired ? for
are they not '■'partes" of Scripture?

' It seems to me that a perfectly new platform of doctrine
is created, as regards our view of Scripture, by these new
Canons — so far as this, that, if their primary and surface
meaning is to be evaded, it must be by a set of explanations
heretofore not necessary.

' Indeed the whole Church platform seems to me likely
to be off its ancient moorings, it is like a ship which has
swung round or taken up a new position. . . .

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

The question of Inspiration having been dealt with, there
remained the all-important one of Papal Infallibility. And
Newman continued to pray and hope that the definition might
be averted. The late Lord Emly, who often conversed with
him on the subject, told the present writer that Newman's main
objection throughout was not to a definition on the subject,
but to such a definition as was likely to be passed in the haste
in which matters were proceeding and to exaggerations of its
import which extremists were likely to propagate. It was
this anxiety which led him to pray earnestly that for the
present at least no definition should be passed. Newman
wrote in April to Dr. Whitty, who was in Rome :

• Confidential. April I2th, 1S70.

' My dear Fr. Whitty, — Thank you for your letter, which
I was very glad to have. I will write to you as frankly as
you have written to me ; and tho' the letter is " confidential,"
still you are the judge, should you wish to extend that
confidence beyond yourself.

' One can but go by one's best light. Whoever is infallible,
I am not ; but I am bound to argue out the matter and to
act as if I were, till the Council decides ; and then, if God's
Infallibility is against me, to submit at once, still not
repenting of having taken the part which I felt to be right,
any more than a lawyer in Court may repent of believing
in a cause and advocating a point of law, which the Bench

296 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

of Judges ultimately give against him. We can but do our
best.

'Well, then, my thesis is this: — you are going too fast at
Rome ; — on this I shall insist.

* It is enough for one Pope to have passed one doctrine
(on the Immac. Concept.) into the list of dogmata. We do
not move at railroad pace in theological matters, even in the
19th century. We must be patient, and that for two reasons :
— first, in order to get at the truth ourselves, and next in
order to carry others with us.

' I. The Church moves as a whole ; it is not a mere
philosophy, it is a communion ; it not only discovers, but it
teaches ; it is bound to consult for charity as well as for faith.
You must prepare men's minds for the doctrine, and you
must not flout and insult the existing tradition of countries.
The tradition of Ireland, the tradition of England, is not on
the side of Papal Infallibility. You know how recent Ultra-
montane views are in both countries ; so too of France ; so
of Germany. The time may come when it will be seen how
those traditions are compatible with additions, that is, with
true developments, which those traditions indeed in them-
selves do not explicitly teach ; but you have no right rudely
to wipe out the history of centuries, and to substitute a
bran new view of the doctrine imported from Rome and the
South. Think how slowly and cautiously you proceeded
in the definition of the Immac. Concept., how many steps
were made, how many centuries passed, before the dogma
was ripe ; — we are not ripe yet for the Pope's Infallibility.
Hardly anyone even murmured at the act of 1854 ; l^'^lf the
Catholic world is in a fright at the proposed act of 1870.

' When indeed I think of the contrast presented to us by
what is done now and what was done then, and what, as I
have said, ought always to be done, I declare, unless I were
too old to be angry, I should be very angry. The Bull
convening the Council was issued with its definite objects
stated, dogma being only slightly mentioned as among those
objects, but not a word about the Pope's Infallibility.
Through the interval, up to the meeting of the Council, not a
word was said to enlighten the Bishops as to what they were
to meet about. The Irish Bishops, as I heard at the time,
felt surprised at this ; so did all, I doubt not. Many or most
had thought they were to meet to set right the Canon Law.
Then suddenly, just as they are meeting, it is let out that the
Pope's Infallibility is the great subject of definition, and the
Civilta, and other well-informed prints, say that it is to be

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 297

carried by acclamation ! Then Archbishop Manning tells
(I believe) Mr. Odo Russell that, unless the opposition can
cut the throats of 500 Bishops, the definition certainly will be
carried ; and, moreover, that it has long been intended I Long
intended, and yet kept secret ! Is this the way the faithful
ever were treated before ? is this in any sort of sense going
by tradition ? On hearing this, my memory went back to
an old saying, imputed to Monsignor Talbot, that what made
the definition of the Immac. Concept, so desirable and
important was that it opened the way to the definition of
the Pope's Infallibility. Is it wonderful that we should all
be shocked ? For myself, after meditating on such crooked
ways, I cannot help turning to Our Lord's terrible warning :
" Vae mundo a scandalis ! Quisquis scandalizaverit unum
ex his pusillis credentibus in me, bonum est ei magis
si circumdaretur mola asinaria collo ejus, et in mare
mitteretur."

' 2. I say then you must take your time about a definition
de fide, for the sake of charity; — and now I say so again
for the sake of truth ; for the very same caution, which is
necessary for the sake of others, is surely the divinely
appointed human means of an infallible decision. Consider
how carefully the Immaculate Conception was worked out.
Those two words have been analysed, examined in their
parts, and then carefully explained ; — the declarations and
the intentions of Fathers, Popes, and ecclesiastical writers on
the point have been clearly made out. It was this process
that brought Catholic Schools into union about it, while it
secured the accuracy of each. Each had its own extreme
points eliminated, and they became one, because the truth
to which they converged was one. But now what is done as
regards the seriously practical doctrine at present in dis-
cussion ? What we require, first of all, and it is a work of
years, is a careful consideration of the acts of Councils, the
deeds of Popes, the Bullarium. We need to try the doctrine
by facts, to see what it may mean, what it cannot mean,
what it must mean. We must try its future working
by the past. And we need that this should be done in
the face of day, in course, in quiet, in various schools and
centres of thought, in controversy. This is a work of years.
This is the true way in which those who differ sift out the
truth. On the other hand, what do we actually sec ? Sud-
denly one or two works made to order — (excuse me, I must
speak out). Fr. Botalla writes a book — and, when he finds
a layman like Renouf speak intemperately, then, instead of

298 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

setting him an example of cool and careful investigation, he
speaks intemperately too, and answers him sharply, some say
angrily. '■^Non tali auxilio, nee defensoribiis istis / " Is this the
way to gain a blessing on a most momentous undertaking ?

' 3. One word more. To outsiders like me it would seem
as if a grave dogmatic question was being treated merely as
a move in ecclesiastical politics. Indeed, what you say
about its relation to the Syllabus justifies me in so thinking.
So grave a doctrine is but an accidental means to an object
of the particular year, 1 864 ! a dogma is, so to say, dated,
as St. Athanasius says of the Arian creeds. I say " an
accidental means," for you surmise that, if the Syllabus had
not been negative in its form, the definition of the Pope's
Infallibility would not have been needed at present. I could
say much, not about the Syllabus, but on the unworthy way
in which it has been treated by its professed champions.
But let us allow that it is right to sink the solemn character
of a dogma in a question of ecclesiastical expedience, regnante
Pio nono : — next, if so, I naturally ask whether such a
degradation answers its purpose. Am I bound to take my
view of expedience from what is thought expedient at Rome?
May I not judge about expedience for Catholics in England
by what we see in England ? Now the effect upon the
English people of the very attempt at definition hitherto
does but confirm one's worst apprehensions about it, for
1st. the ministry is decidedly pro-Catholic. Gladstone
would help the Irish Catholic University if he could, but he
has been obliged to declare in the House that what is going
on in Rome ties his hands. And 2ndly Mr. Newdegate has
gained his Committee to inquire into conventual establish-
ments and their property. These are the first fruits in
England of even the very agitation of this great anticipated
expedient for strengthening the Church. That agitation
falls upon an existing anti-Catholic agitation spreading
through the English mind. Murphy is still lecturing against
priests and convents, and gaining over the classes who are now
the ultimate depository of political power, the constituency
for Parliamentary elections. And we, where we are bound,
if we can, to soothe the deep prejudices and feverish suspi-
cions of the nation, we on the contrary are to be forced,
by measures determined on at Rome, to blow upon this
troubled sea with all the winds of /Eolus, when Neptune
ought to raise his " placidum caput " above the waves. This
is what we need at least in England. And for England, of
course, I speak.

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 299

' Excuse my freedom. I do not forget your two passages.
Say everything kind for me to your Bishop, unless he has
returned home. I wrote to him a day or two ago. You may
open the letter if he is away.

* Ever yours affly.

John H. Newman.'

Newman made no secret of his views, in writing, not
only to intimate friends, but to occasional correspondents.
Mr. O'Neill Daunt had asked his advice concerning a lady
friend whose faith was greatly tried by the prospect of the
definition, and he thus replied :

' The Orator)' : June 27th, 1870.

' As to the subject of your letter, I certainly think this
agitation of the Pope's Infallibility most unfortunate and
ill-advised, and I shall think so even if the Council decrees
it, unless I am obliged to believe that the Holy Ghost
protects the Fathers from all inexpedient acts, (which I do
not see is anywhere promised) as well as guides them, into all
the truth, as He certainly does. There are truths which are
inexpedient.

' As to your question, however, I think first that there is
such a thing as a " needless alarm." Do you recollect
Cowper's poem with that title .-* I often think of it and
quote it, and especially lately, since this agitation has
commenced. Your friend should not take it for granted that
the Infallibility of the Pope will be carried. I am not at all
sure it will. For myself, I refuse to believe that it can be
carried, till it actually is. I think the great Doctors of the
Church will save us from a dogma which they did not hold
themselves,

' Next, if anything is passed, it will be in so mild a form,
as practically to mean little or nothing. There is a report,
which you probably can substantiate better than I, that
Cardinal Cullen said, when he was in Dublin, at Easter,
that " he thought the Pope would never be able to use the
dogma, in the shape it was to be passed.

' Lastly, is your friend sure she understa7ids the dogma,
even as Ultramontanes hold it ? I very much doubt if she
does. She should look carefully to this. The Pope did not
force on us the Immaculate Conception. The whole of
Christendom wished it.' ^

' In the Appendix, at pp. 552 seq., will be found some further letters illus-
trating Newman's state of mind during the months preceding the definition of
Papal Infallibility, and one letter on the fall of Louis Napoleon in August 1870.

300 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Meanwhile the deliberations of the Council proceeded.
One party pleaded for whole-hearted loyalty to the Pontiff.
The other urged such caution as the true interests of the
Church and respect for its traditions demanded. The contest
was intensified, and the struggle of motives complicated, by
the simple and noble character of Pius IX. and the charm
of his presence. In the graphic journal of Mr. Thomas
Mozley, intensely prejudiced as he was against the in-
fallibilists, we see that the appearance of Pio Nono ever
touches his imagination and his heart. The very tones of
his voice were inspiring. ' Whenever the Pope himself, ' he
writes, after one of the Church functions at which he was
present, ' had either to intone or to give the first notes of the
grand sacramental hymns, his peculiarly cheery voice rang
through the whole church and woke a response from every-
body within reach of it. The reverence he aroused was so
universal and hearty that I could almost have fancied that
there was a touch of mirth in it' The gracious presence of
the Pontiff, his simple faith, conquered wherever he went.
His jokes were in everyone's mouth. Those who regarded
the promoters of the definition as fanatics of the deepest
dye could not but undergo a revulsion of feeling when they
met the man who was in their eyes the head of the party.
Even the zeal of his most loyal followers would touch his
sense of humour : and when, after the definition was passed,
many of the Bishops who had voted for it stayed on week after
week, living at the Pope's expense, to rejoice over their vic-
tory, the Pontiff was both amused and somewhat tried at this
drain on his exchequer. With the usual pinch of snuff and
a twinkle in his eye, he is said to have remarked, 'Quest!
infallibilisti mi faranno fallire.' To behold the Pope pray
was, it used to be said, to watch one who himself saw that
world which others know only by faith. Such was the man
who in person made the appeal to his Bishops to be loyal to
God's Vicar and to despise the opinion of the world. And
he treated half-heartedncss as to the definition as simply and
solely worldliness. It is hard to conceive a greater trial, of
its kind, than such men as Dr. Moriarty and Mgr. Dupanloup
had to undergo in resisting such appeals, and appearing to
the Pontiff they so deeply loved and reverenced to fail in
their loyalty to him in his time of trouble.

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 301

I may cite one out of many pictures Mr. Mozley has left
of the activity and zeal of the great Pontiff at this time :

' The day reminds me once more of the enormous amount
of work expected from a Pope, and done diligently, faithfully,
and cheerfully by this old man in his seventy-eighth year.
Yesterday he paid a long visit to the Exposition, talking
with the exhibitors, and having his jokes with all about him.
He has to give interviews to all these seven hundred bishops,
and, as the enemy says, to put a strong pressure on all who
are recommended to him for the application of the supreme
torture. A great deal has been said about his visits to the
aged and invalid bishops lodged and nursed in the canonical
apartments attached to St. Peter's.

' Other bishops, who have been disposed, or compelled
by circumstances, to adopt a neutral or a moderate line in
the Council, have found themselves sorely tried in a personal
interview. They find it vain to declare their devotion or
their sincerity. His Holiness tells them plainly they are not
on his side ; they are among his enemies ; they are damaging
the good cause ; their loyalty is not sound. It is enough
that they have signed what they should not, or not signed
what they ought. On the Roman system there is nothing
wonderful in this personal interference of the Head of the
Church. What I most marvel at is that it is all done by this
old man, and that it is done with a success which provokes
the indignation of those who conceive their cause hurt by it.'

Newman, though at a distance from Rome, realised to
the full the charm of the Pontiff with whose policy he could
not concur. Pius IX. had ever touched his heart in their
intercourse. He was wont to ascribe to his character and
presence much of the abatement among his countrymen of
anti-Catholic prejudice — and this in spite of the fact that
Pio Nono's recent line of action and his insistence on the
Papal prerogatives were calculated greatly to increase rather
than to diminish the bigotry of our countrymen. The man
himself had that in him which was quite irresistible.

' No one could, both by his words and deeds, offend
[Englishmen] more,' Newman wrote of him after his death.
' He claimed, he exercised, larger powers than any other
Pope ever did ; he committed himself to ecclesiastical acts
bolder than those of any other Pope ; his secular policy

302 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

was especially distasteful to Englishmen ; he had some near
him who put into print just that kind of gossip concerning
him which would put an Englishman's teeth on edge ; lastly,
he it was who, in the very beginning of his reign, was the
author of the very measure which raised such a commotion
among us ; yet his personal presence was of a kind that no
one could withstand. I believe one special cause of the
abatement of the animosity felt towards us by our country-
men was the series of tableaux, as I may call them, brought
before them in the newspapers, of his receptions of visitors
in the Vatican.

' His misfortunes indeed had something to do with his
popularity. The whole world felt that he was shamefully
used as regards his temporal possessions ; no foreign power
had any right to seize upon his palaces, churches, and other
possessions, and the injustice showed him created a wide
interest in him ; but the main cause of his popularity was
the magic of his presence, which was such as to dissipate
and utterly destroy the fog out of which the image of a Pope
looms to the ordinary Englishman. His uncompromising
faith, his courage, the graceful intermingling in him of the
human and the divine, the humour, the wit, the playfulness
with which he tempered his severity, his naturalness, and
then his true eloquence, and the resources he had at command
for meeting with appropriate words the circumstances of the
moment, overcame those who were least likely to be over-
come. A friend of mine, a Protestant, a man of practised
intellect and mature mind, told me to my surprise that,
at one of the Pope's receptions at the Vatican, he was so
touched by the discourse made by His Holiness to his
visitors, that he burst into tears. And this was the ex-
perience of hundreds ; how could they think ill of him or
of his children when his very look and voice were so ethical,
so eloquent, so persuasive?' ^

It was doubtless largely the feeling which Pius IX.
inspired which made the inopportunist Bishops decline to
record their votes against the decree of Infallibility at the
final public session held in the Pope's presence. At the
General Congregation of July 13, at which the definition was
informally passed, eighty-eight Bishops voted non placet, and
sixty-two placet jiixta uioduDi (that is, were in favour of
modifications in the definition). They then left Rome after
addressing to the Pontiff the following letter:

' Addresses by Cardinal Newman (Longmans), p. 242.

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 303

' Most Blessed Father, — In the General Congregation
held on the 13th inst we gave our votes on the Schemata of
the first Dogmatic Constitution concerning the Church of
Christ.

' Your Holiness is aware that 88 Fathers, urged by con-
science and love of Holy Church, gave their vote in the
words " non placet'' ; 62 in the words " placet /z^jr/^ inodunt" ;
finally about 70 were absent and gave no vote.

' Others returned to their dioceses on account of illness or
more serious reasons.

' Thus our votes are known to your Holiness and manifest
to the whole world, and it is notorious how many bishops
agree with us, and with the manner in which we have dis-
charged the office and duty laid upon us.

' Nothing has happened since to change our opinion, nay
rather there have been many and very serious events of a
nature to confirm us in it.

' We therefore declare that we renew and confirm the
votes already given.

' Confirming therefore our votes by this present document,
we have decided to ask leave of absence from the public
session on the i8th inst.

' P^or the filial piety and reverence which very recently
brought our representatives to the feet of your Holiness do
not allow us in a cause so closely concerning your Holiness
to say " non placet " openly and to the face of the Father.

' Moreover, the votes to be given in Solemn Session would
only repeat those already delivered in General Congregation.
We return, therefore, without delay to our flocks, to whom,
after so long an absence, the apprehensions of war and their
most urgent spiritual wants render us necessary to the utmost
of our power, grieving as we do, that in the present gloomy
state of public affairs we shall find the faithful troubled in
conscience and no longer at peace with one another.

' Meanwhile, with our whole heart, we commend the
Church of God and your Holiness, to whom we avow our
unaltered faith and obedience, to the grace and protection of
our Lord Jesus Christ, and are your

' Most devoted and obedient.'

The appointed day arrived — July 18 — and the definition
was solemnly passed in presence of the Pontiff. Mr. Mozley,
who was a witness of the scene, has left a graphic account of
it:'

' I omit Mr. Mozley's unsympathetic reflections, as my object is only to give
his picture of the scene. (S^q Moz\Qy^s, Letters from Rome. Longmans.)

304 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Let me begin with the vigil of the fete. It thundered
and lightened all night, and it rained in the morning.
When I went down to St. Peter's on December 8 last, the
very doors of Heaven seemed to have been opened, and we
were nearly washed out of our carriages. Yesterday, too,
instead of a bright Roman sky and brilliant, burning sun, we
had what may be called the storm of the season. Thus, the
opening and the closing of the Council — the closing, at least,
for the present — were marked by a violent revolution of
the elements. The doors were not opened before half past
7 o'clock, and as I drove down at that hour the streets were
comparatively empty. A solitary cab or two were rambling
in the same direction — a few priests and students were hurry-
ing on through the rain, and the gallant Guards, who let us
pass unheeded, sat indolently on their horses, having no
occasion to make a display. . . .

' A double line of troops was soon formed, and between
them, steadily or jauntily as the case might be, walked the
Fathers, each going to the Hall, and taking his seat as he
arrived. The laity, for whom all the blessings of the day
were specially designed, looked over the shoulders of the
soldiers to observe the bishops. . . . Many of the seats of the
Fathers were vacant, certainly nearly 250, 130 or 140 prelates
having absented themselves only for the day. . . .

' His Holiness, I am told by his friends, on entering, felt
agitated, and trembled when he knelt to say his prayers, but
this passed off, his voice was as firm and as clear as I have
ever heard it, and his appearance became bright and cheerful.
The Mass was short, giving promise of an early closing, and
then came those beautiful hymns of the Roman Catholic
Church, sung at intervals, and never sung more effectively.
First the Litany of the Saints was chanted by the choir,
taken up by the Fathers, and carried as it were out of the
Hall until it was lifted on high by the swelling voices of
several thousands of persons who clustered round the tomb of
St. Peter. So it was with the Ve7/t Creator. Apart from the
essentially sweet and plaintive character of the music, the
body of sound satisfied all one's desires, giving the assurance
of something like sincerity and depth of feeling.

' Now there was a lull, broken at last by the shrill voice
of the Secretary reading the Dogma. The real business of
the daj' had commenced, and the crowd about the door and
around the baldacchino became more dense. . . . The reading
of the Dogma was followed by the roll-call of the P'athers,
and Placet after Placet followed, though not in very quick

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 305

succession. They were uttered in louder and bolder tones
than on former occasions, either that the echo was greater
from the comparative emptiness of the church or that the
Fathers were pleased at being shorn, and amid their
utterances there was a loud peal of thunder.

' The storm which had been threatening all the morning
burst now with the utmost violence, and to many a super-
stitious mind might have conveyed the idea that it was the
expression of Divine wrath, as " no doubt it will be interpreted
by numbers," said one officer of the Palatine Guard. And so
the Placets of the Fathers struggled through the storm, while
the thunder pealed above and the lightning flashed in at
every window and down through the dome and every smaller
cupola, dividing if not absorbing the attention of the crowd.
Placet^ shouted his Eminence or his Grace, and a loud clap of
thunder followed in response, and then the lightning darted
about the baldacchino and every part of the church and
Conciliar Hall, as if announcing the response. So it con-
tinued for nearly one hour and a half, during which time the
roll was being called, and a more effective scene I never
witnessed. Had all the decorators and all the getters-up of
ceremonies in Rome been employed, nothing approaching to
the solemn splendour of that storm could have been prepared,
and never will those who saw it and felt it forget the promul-
gation of the first Dogma of the Church.

' The facade of the Hall had not been removed as on
former occasions, only the great door was opened, so that it
could be scarcely called an open Session, and people could
get a glimpse of what was going on only by struggling fiercely
and peering over one another's shoulders, or by standing at a
distance and looking through a glass. I chose this last and
better part. The storm was at its height when the result of
the voting was taken up to the Pope, and the darkness was
so thick that a huge taper was necessarily brought and
placed by his side as he read the words, " Nosque, sacro
approbante Concilio, ilia ita decernimus, statuimus atque
sancimus ut lecta sunt." And again the lightning flickered
around the Hall, and the thunder pealed.

' I was standing at this moment in the south transept
trying to penetrate the darkness which surrounded the Pope,
when the sound as of a mighty rushing something, I could
not tell what, caused me to start violently, and look about
me and above me. It might be a storm of hail. Such for
an instant was my impression ; and it grew and swelled, and
then the whole mystery was revealed by a cloud of white
VOL. II. X

3o6 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

handkerchiefs waving before me. The signal had been given
by the Fathers themselves with clapping of hands. This was
my imaginary hailstorm ; and it was taken up by the crowd
outside the Hall, and so the storm grew in violence until at
length it came to where I stood ; Viva il Papa Infallibile !
Viva il trionfo dei Cattolici ! shouted the zealots. , . . But
again the storm rose with greater violence than before, and I
thought that, according to English custom, we were to have
three times three.

' The Te Deum and the Benedictions, however, put a stop
to it ; the entire crowd fell on their knees as I have never
seen a crowd do before in St. Peter's, and the Pope blessed
them in those clear sweet tones distinguishable among a
thousand. A third and fainter attempt was made to get up
another cheer, but it died away, and then priests, priestlings,
monks and holy women, rushed down the nave to get,
perchance, another peep at the Pope as he passed through
the chapels, but the doors were closed.

' Thus closed the Session of the Ecumenical Vatican
Council for the present, not prorogued nor suspended, to meet
again on Novem.ber ii.'

The arguments of the Bishops of the minority had one all-
important result. In the proceedings of the Council published
in the seventh volume of the Jesuit ' Collectio Lacensis' we
see that they pressed for words absolutely precluding the view
of extremists, that Papal Infallibility meant a direct revela-
tion to the Pope, or endowed him with such absolute power
as to warrant his dispensing with intercourse with the Church
in its exercise. A historical introduction to the definition
was accordingly written by the learned theologians. Fathers
Franzelin and Kleutgen.

It was to show ' in what manner the Roman Pontiffs
had ever been accustomed to exercise the viagistcrium of
faith in the Church,' and to prevent the fear lest ' the Roman
Pontiff could proceed {trocedere possit) in judging of matters
of faith without counsel, deliberation, and the use of scientific
means.' This introduction formed the basis of what was
ultimately passed at the public session of the Fathers on
July 1 8, although the te.xt of Franzelin and Kleutgen was
not entirely approved.

The same point was emphasised again in one of the
annotations to the first draft of the new formula, proposed on

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 307

June 8, which formed the basis of further modifications. ' It
seemed useful,' we read in this annotation, ' to insert in the
Chapter some things adapted to the right understanding of
the dogma, namely, that the Supreme Pontiff does not per-
form his duty as teacher without intercourse and union {sine
coinmercio et unione) with the Church.' ^

In the historical introduction, as finally published, the
safeguard urged as necessary in this connection was thus
expressed : ' The Roman Pontiffs, as the state of things and
times has made advisable, at one time calling Ecumenical
Councils or finding out the opinion of the Church dispersed
through the world, at another by means of particular Synods,
at another using other means of assistance which Divine
Providence supplied, have defined those things to be held
which by God's aid they had known to be in agreement with
sacred Scripture and the Apostolic traditions, for the Holy
Ghost was promised to the successors of Peter, not that by
His revelation they should disclose new doctrines, but that
by His assistefitia they might preserve inviolate, and expound
faithfully, the revelation or deposit of faith handed down by
the Apostles.'

The exaggerations of M. Veuillot were thus definitely
rejected by the Fathers. But Newman did not at first know
this, and, having latterly despaired of a moderate definition,
he had fixed his hopes on the dogma not being defined at
all. A definition corresponding to the views set forth in
M. Veuillot's writings, or Cardinal Antonelli's reported
explanations, was unthinkable as an obligatory dogmatic
formula. He would not, he said, believe that the definition
would be made until it was un fait accompli. When the news
first reached him that it had been passed, with no particulars
as to its scope, the blow was, as those who knew him best have
told the present writer, a stunning one. But when he saw its
actual text Newman's fears were allayed. * I saw the new
definition yesterday,' he wrote to a friend, ' and am pleased at
its moderation, — that is, if the doctrine in question is to be
defined at all.'

So far, indeed, as doctrine was concerned, as he said to
many correspondents, no more was defined than he himself

' See W. G. Ward a}id (he Catholic Revival, pp. 435-36.

X 2

3o8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

had always held. The old Ultramontanism of which Arch-
bishop Sibour and Montalembert had been staunch defenders
became a doctrine of faith. The Ultramontanism of the
Univers received no countenance in the text of the definition.
Nevertheless, as careful readers of the ' Letter to the
Duke of Norfolk ' already know, Newman did not regard the
truth of the doctrine defined as being by any means the sole
question at issue. The tendency towards excessive centralisa-
tion which he deplored was not a matter of doctrine, but of
polic}'. And his letters show that he had great anxiety lest
the passing of the definition should actually increase this
tendency. Moreover, his indignation against some of the
leading promoters of the decree was in no way abated. In
the very month in which the definition was passed — on
July 27 — he wrote thus to Sister Maria Pia :

' Our good God is trying all of us with disappointment
and sorrow just now ; I allude to what has taken place at
Rome — who of us would not have rejoiced if the Fathers of
the Council had one and all felt it their duty to assent to the
Infallibility of the Holy Father — } but a gloom falls upon
one, when it is decreed with so very large a number of
dissentient voices. It looks as if our Great Lord were in
some way displeased at us. Indeed the look of public
matters generally is very threatening, and we need the
prayers of all holy souls and all good nuns to avert the evils
which seem coming upon the earth.'

Though accepting the definition at once himself, he did
not at first feel justified in speaking of it publicly as de
fide until the Council should be terminated. He wrote to
Mrs. Froude as follows on August 8 :

' It is too soon to give an opinion about the definition.
I want to know what the Bishops of the minority saj' on the
subject, and what they mean to do. As I have ever believed
as much as the definition says, I have a difficulty in putting
myself into the position of mind of those who have not. As
far as I see, no one is bound to believe it at this moment,
certainly not till the end of the Council. This I hold in
spite of Dr. Manning. At the same time, since the Pope has
pronounced the definition, I think it safer to accept it at
once. I very much doubt if at this moment — before the end
of the Council, I could get myself publicly to say it was de

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 309

fide, whatever came of it — though I believe the doctrine
itself.

' I think it is not usual, to promulgate a dogma till the
end of a Council, as far as I know — and next, this has been
carried under such very special circumstances. I look for
the Council to right itself in some way before it ends. It
looks like a house divided against itself, which is a great
scandal.

' And now you have my whole mind. I rule my own
conduct by what is safer, which in matters of faith is a true
principle of theology, — but (as at present advised, in my
present state of knowledge or ignorance, till there are further
acts of the Church) I cannot pronounce categorically that the
doctrine is de fide.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.^

' P.S. — You need not believe anything more personal or
inherent in the Pope than you say.

'P.S. — [on another sheet] My postscript to the first
sheet is hardly intelligible.

' The Pope is infallible in actu, not in kabitu — in his
particular pronouncements ex Cathedra, not in his state of
illumination, as an Apostle might be, which would be
inspiration. I am told some wicked men, not content with
their hitherto cruel conduct, are trying to bring in this
doctrine of inherent infallibility, of which there is not a hint
in the definition. Perhaps they would like to go on to call
him a Vice-God, as some one actually did, or sole God to us.
Unless my informant was mad, I heard lately of some one
(English or Irish) who said that now we ought not to pray to
God at all, but only to the Blessed Virgin — God preserve
us, if we have such madmen among us, with their lighted
brands.'

The evil consequences which he feared from the definition
were two. It is true that the dogma professed to declare
that theoretically the Papacy had received no addition of
power. The infallibility ascribed to Pius IX. in his ex cathedra
utterances had belonged also to St. Peter and St. Gregory
the Great. Yet the act of the Council would be likely, he
feared in the first place, to lead in practice to increased cen-
tralisation,— to the predominance of the new Ultramontanism

' Substantially the same view is expressed in the letter cited in the Letter to
the Duke of Norfolk (see Difficulties of Anglicans, vol. ii. p. 303).

310 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

of M. Louis Veuillot and W. G. Ward. In the second place,
he felt that in this case, as with the decree on Inspiration,
the difficulties which had to be met had not been adequately
anticipated, owing partly to the rapidity and secrecy of
the proceedings of the Council, and that the argumentative
position of Catholic apologists would be in consequence for
the time greatly embarrassed.

That evil results should follow on valid and true defini-
tions, however, was no novelty in Church history. Confusion
had followed former Councils, and might well follow the
Vatican Council.

Newman's view as to the danger of increased centralisa-
tion is shown in the following letter to Mr, O'Neill Daunt,
who had written for further advice respecting the friend
already referred to whose faith in the Church had been
shaken :

•The Oratory: August 7th, 1870.

' My dear Mr. Daunt, — I agree with you that the wording
of the Dogma has nothing very difficult in it. It expresses
what, as an opinion, I have ever held myself with a host of
other Catholics. But that does not reconcile me to imposing
it upon others, and I do not see why a man who denied it
might not be as good a Catholic as the man who held it.^
And it is a new and most serious precedent in the Church
that a dogma de fide should be passed z<.'ithout definite and
urgent cause. This to my mind is the serious part of the
matter. You put an enormous power into the hands of one
man, without check, and at the very time, by your act, you
declare that he may use it without special occasion.

' However, God will provide. We must recollect, there
has seldom been a Council without great confusion after it, —
so it was even with the first,— so it was with third, fourth,
and fifth, — and [the] sixth which condemned Pope Honorius.
The difference between those instances and this being, that
now we have brought it on ourselves without visible
necessity.

' The great difficulty in the painful case you write about
is, that when the imagination gets excited on a point, it is
next to impossible by any show of arguments, however
sound, to meet the evil. I think it may safely be said to
your friend, that the greater part of the Church has long

' This opinion he changed after it became clear that the minority would lake
no concerted action.— See Letter to the Duke 0/ Norfolk, \). J05.

THE VATICAN COUNCIL (1869-1870) 311

thought that the Pope has the power which he and the
Bishops of the majority have declared is his ; and that, if the
Church is the work and ordinance of God, we must have
a Httle faith in Him and be assured that He will provide
that there is no abuse of the Pope's power. Your friend
must not assume, before the event, that his power will be
abused. Perhaps you ought not to urge her too strongly, —
if left to herself, your reasons may tell on her after a while
though they seem to fail at the moment.

* Most sincerely yours,

John H. Newman.'

The second evil consequence which Newman feared from
the definition is referred to in a letter written two years later
to Dr. Northcote. Dr. Northcote had reopened the discussion
of the possibility of a Catholic College at Oxford. Newman
now questioned its practicability. The Vatican Council had
by its decrees on Scripture and on Papal Infallibility raised,
he held, a new platform of dogma which could not be
defended until theologians had worked out a coherent view
on their relations with contemporary controversy. Previously
to the Council, though he had wished rather for an Oratory
than for a College as the centre of Catholic influence on the
University, he had desired some centre of influence. Now
he considered its desirableness for the time very doubtful.

' Though I could not advocate,' he wrote on April 7, 1872,
* hitherto I should have been quite able to acquiesce in any
plan for a Catholic College at Oxford, and that, on the
reasons you so lucidly and powerfully draw out. I should
have been able //// lately, but I confess I am in great doubt
just now.

' And for this reason : — the antagonism between the
Catholic Church and Oxford has become far more direct
and intense during the last two years. From all I read and
hear it seems to me that the Anglican Church and the
University are almost or quite in a whirlpool of unbelief, even
if they be as yet at some distance from the gulf and its abyss.
On the other hand there are the decrees of the Vatican
Council.

' The two main instruments of infidelity just now are
physical science and history ; physical science is used against
Scripture, and history against dogma ; the Vatican Council
by its decrees about the inspiration of Scripture and the

312 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

Infallibility of the Pope has simply thrown down the gauntlet
to the science and the historical research of the day.

' You will understand what I mean without my giving
instances. The instance which has last come before me is
Professor Owen's attack on the Bishop of Ely in the February
Number of Frascr.

' In former times it was by the collision of Catholic intellect
with Catholic intellect that the meaning and the limit of
dogmatic decrees were determined ; but there has been no
intellectual scrutiny, no controversies as yet over the Vatican
definitions, and their sense will have to be wrought out not in
friendly controversy, but in a mortal fight at Oxford, in the
presence of Catholics and Protestants, between Protestant
Professors and Tutors and a Catholic College. I do not see
how this conflict is to be avoided if we go to Oxford. Ought
we to go before we are armed ? Till two years ago, Trent
was the last Council — and our theologians during a long 300
years had prepared us for the fight— now we are new born
children, the birth of the Vatican Council, and we are going
to war without strength and without arms. We do not know
what exactly we hold — what we may grant, what we must
maintain. A man who historically defends the Pope's infalli-
bility must almost originate a polemic — can he do so, as being
an individual, without many mistakes ? but he makes them
on the stage of a great theatre.' ^

' Two more letters on this subject will be found in the Appendix at p. 554.

CHAPTER XXX

LIFE AT THE ORATORY

The close sequence of the public events which absorbed
Newman up to the end of the Vatican Council has hitherto
left little opportunity to the biographer for depicting what
may be called the background of his life. If external
circumstances were ever changing and were full of trial for
him, the home life which, since he returned from Dublin, he
had led at the Oratory was ever the same and very peaceful.
He loved its monotony, and echoed the words of the ' Imita-
tion,' ' cella continuata dulcescit.' ' Nothing is more weari-
some than change,' he wrote to Miss Holmes. And to
another correspondent, who suggested some wider sphere of
action for him, he wrote in 1864 :

* I assure you it would be a strong arm, stronger than any
which I can fancy, that would be able to pull me out of my
" nest," to use the Oratorian word, — and I am too old for it
now — I could not be picked out of it without being broken
to pieces in the process.'

In the short lull amid his active work which intervened
between the abandonment of the Oxford scheme and the
Vatican Council controversy he wrote to a friend ' in a letter
dated June 12, 1869 :

' I have nothing to write about in our happy state of calm,
luxurious vegetation. The only drawback is that we are
made for work, and, therefore, one has something of a bad
conscience in standing all the day idle. Excepting this
" amari aliquid," I am well content to be as I am.'

Yet with his sensitive temperament the peaceful habits of
his Oratorian home gave him in reality the only surroundings
which made his best work possible.

' Mrs. Sconce.

314 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

At the Oratory, then, surrounded by devoted followers
whose sympathy tempered for him the cold blasts of the
world's criticism, he lived almost unintermittently, hardly ever
paying visits even to intimate friends. Here, even amid the
troubles that have been narrated in this work, he carried on
that vast correspondence with friends and strangers who con-
sulted him which formed half of his life-work. A consider-
able selection from this correspondence is given in this
book.^ It is to be hoped that it will eventually be published
in its entirety. But something must here be said as to the
characteristics which his letters exercised and revealed. And
something must be told of his daily life and habits.

To letters as an element in biography he himself attached
great value. Writing to Father Coleridge in 1866 of the
proposed biography of Keble, he says :

* My own notion of writing a life is the notion of Hurrell
Froude, — viz. to do it by letters, and to bring in as little
letterpress of one's own as possible. Froude has so done
his " Becket." It is far more real, and therefore interesting,
than any other way. Stanley has so done in his "Arnold." '

With Newman the writing of letters was a very important
part of his daily life. It was the chief means of communication
with others for one whose affections were singularly keen and
clinging. It was a vehicle for expressing the thoughts of
his full mind, without the great anxiety attaching to words
that were printed, and, therefore, in some sense irrevocable.
And it was the means of exerting personal influence on the
large numbers who sought his advice and judgment in diffi-
culties or troubles. He devoted immense labour to his letters.
When the subject of writing was at all difficult he would
make a rough draft and keep it, sending to his correspon-
dent a letter based on this first draft, but generally including
some changes in order to bring out his meaning more clearly.
He kept the letters he received and endorsed them with any
specially important passage in his own reply. He devoted
many hours in the day to writing, and this habit continued as
long as he was physically able to write at all. About 1854
he began to complain that the old readiness in all writing,

' A good many letters which are unconnected with this narrative of his active
life are given in the Appendices.

LIFE AT THE ORATORY 315

including letters, was going. He now found it harder to
begin. But once fairly at work he wrote as well as in earlier
days. ' I am like an old horse,' he said, ' who stumbles at first,
but once he gets into his trot he goes as well as ever.' Like
other people with a large correspondence, he was sometimes
late in replying, but would Justify himself ingeniously.

* You must be so kind,' he wrote in 1864 to the Rev. A. V.
Alleyne, ' as to excuse me for not having yet thanked you for
your very kind letter of last month. At the time I was too
busy to write any letter, and since then I have been gradually
making up my arrears of correspondence. But, as a man
who has for some time lived beyond his income is a long
while before he can by his retrenchments make up for past
extravagance, and, as we all feel how difficult it is in walking
to catch up another unless we run or he stops, so am I very
much put about in my attempts to make up for my delin-
quencies of letter writing in May and June, while I also
have still to answer the current letters of each fresh day and
week. And moreover, when once I feel that my character
for punctuality is gone in this or that quarter, I am naturally
led on to think that a more continued silence will not make
me worse in the eyes of my correspondent than one of half
the length.'

He was very particular as to his pens. A bad steel pen,
he found, not only made writing troublesome, and the results
untidy, but actually confused the mind of the writer and
damaged the letters as compositions.

' I have a pen,' he tells a friend, ' which writes so badly
that it re-acts upon my composition and my spelling. How
odd this is ! but it is true. I think best when I write. I
cannot in the same way think while I speak. Some men are
brilliant in conversation, others in public speaking, — others
find their minds act best when they have a pen in their
hands. But then, if it is a bad pen ? a steel pen ? that is my
case just now, and thus I find my brain won't work, — much
as I wish it.'

His past correspondence was of intense interest to him as
a solemn record of his life. So, too, were his journals and
diaries. When over seventy years of age he transcribed from
beginning to end the pencil notes in his diaries, adding the
record of earlier events which happened before he kept a

3i6 Lll'E OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

diary, and beginning with his birth. He also devoted much
time to arranging his letters and papers — this he began in the
sad years preceding the ' Apologia,' and resumed after the
Vatican Council.

'As \jo personal matters,' he wrote to Henry Wilberforce
in i860, 'my prospect is curious, as most others must feel
who are of my age. According as a man dies at 60, 70, or
80, his heirs are different, and his papers come into different
hands. It is a strange feeling attends on making abstract
arrangements. I have not a notion who it is to be who will
read any direction I give, or look over any miscellaneous
materials. This makes it very difficult to determine what
to keep and what to destroy. Things most interesting and
dear to myself may be worthless in the eyes of those to
whom my papers fall. Fancy my properties coming into
possession of Dr. Ullathorne, whom I mention with all
respect, — or of others whom, from want of respect for them,
I don't mention ! '

The stern censure of all approach to literary display
which was universal in the Tractarian party ^ had its effect
on the quality of Newman's letters, as we have already seen
that it had on his verses. He is always reserved in them,
breaking out only occasionally and accidentally, almost in
spite of himself, into raciness. The humour, wit, and sarcasm,
the rhetorical effectiveness, which the King William Street
lectures or those on ' The Present Position of Catholics ' show
that he had so abundantly at his command, hardly ever appear
in his letters, which are, in this respect, not a vehicle of com-
plete self-expression as Carlyle's are. Or, to speak more
accurately, they express the character as a whole rather than
mirror completely the thoughts and feelings. For when we
realise the reserve and habitual deliberation of the writer,
which limited their range, we can recognise very much of the
man in his letters, and in their very limitations. One quality

' It should be noted that he would sometimes, perhaps in consequence of this
tradition, depreciate his own writings. But such remarks must not be taken too
seriously. In a letter to Miss Bathurst he speaks of publishing ' the trash I
have written about the Turks.' He took the 'Second Spring' from W. G.
Ward's hands, with the words ' Don't read that rubbish.' Yet when llopc-Scott
took a similar disparagement of itie University Sermons literally, Newman wrote
of the volume, somewhat nettled, ' it will be the best, though pot the most perfect,
book I have done.'— Letters, ii. 407.

LIFE AT THE ORATORY 317

which never fails is the habit and power of adapting his
mind to that of his correspondent. There are very subtle
differences in style and in subject between his letters to
different persons. Even when the subject is the same, the
way of treating it will differ. It was a saying of his that
the same thought in different persons is probably as different
as their faces. And, in writing, a great difference in general
effect may be due to variations, each of them minute. He
himself would express the same thought differently to
different correspondents. In this respect his letters are the
antithesis to those of Mr. Gladstone.

His letters to young friends, the children of his Oxford
contemporaries, show this characteristic as much as any.
I select a few samples belonging to different dates.
Here is quite a simple one written in 1855 to Isy Froude,
daughter of William Froude, in thanks for the gift of a
penwiper :

'6 Harcourt Street, Dublin, July 9th, 1855.

' My dearest Isy, — I am very glad to have your present.
A penwiper is always useful. It lies on the table, and one
can't help looking at it. I have one in use, made for me by
a dear aunt, now dead, whom I knew from a little child, as
I was once. When I take it up, I always think of her,
and I assure you I shall think of you, when I see yours.
I have another at Birmingham given me by Mrs. Phillipps
of Torquay, in the shape of a bell.

' This day is the anniversary of one of the few times I
have seen a dear brother of mine for 22 years. He returned
from Persia, I from Sicily, where I nearly died, the same day.
I saw him once 15 years ago, and now I have not seen him
for 9 years.

' My dear Isy, when I think of your brother, I will think
of you. I heard a report he was to go and fight the Russians.
I have another godson, called Edward Bouverie Pusey, who
is a sailor, already fighting the Russians cither in the Baltic
or at Sebastopol.

' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman

of the Oratory.

* P.S. You will have a hard matter to read this letter.'

Here is a more characteristic letter of thanks — written in
rhyme in 1863 — to J. W. Bowden's niece, Charlotte Bowden

3i8 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

(he uses her child's nickname of ' Chat'), who had sent him
some cakes baked by herself:

' Who is it that moulds and makes
Round, and crisp, and fragrant cakes ?
Makes them with a kind intent,
As a welcome compliment,
And the best that she can send
To a venerable friend ?
One it is, for whom I pray,
On St. Philip's festal day,
With a loving heart, that she
Perfect as her cakes may be.
Full and faithful in the round
Of her duties ever found.
When a trial comes, between
Truth and falsehood cutting keen ;
Yet that keenness and completeness
Tempering with a winning sweetness.

Here's a rhyming letter. Chat,
Gift for gift, and tit for tat.

^J. H. N.

•May 26th, 1863.'

Here is another to Helen Church, the Dean's daughter
(afterwards Mrs. Paget), who had given him Lewis Carroll's
' Hunting of the Snark ' :

' My dear Helen, — Let me thank you and your sisters
without delay for the amusing specimen of imaginative
nonsense which came to me from you and them this morning.
Also, as your gift, it shows that you have not forgotten me,
though a considerable portion of your lives has passed since
you saw me. And, thanking you, I send you also my warmest
Easter greetings and good wishes.

' The little book is not all of it nonsense, though amusing
nonsense ; it has two pleasant prefixes of another sort. One
of them is the " Inscription to a Dear Child," the style of
which, in words and manner, is so entirely of the School of
Keble, that it could not have been written had the " Christian
Year" never made its appearance.

'The other, "The Easter Greeting to Iwery Child, etc.,"
is likely to touch the hearts of old men more than those for
whom it is intended. I recollect well my own thoughts as I
lay in my crib in the early spring, with outdoor scents,
sounds and sights wakening me up, and especially the
cheerful ring of the mower's scythe on the lawn, which

LIFE AT THE ORATORV 319

Milton long before me had noted ; and how in coming down-
stairs slowly, for I brought down both feet on each step, I
said to myself " This is June ! " Though what my particular
experience of June was, and how it was broad enough to be
a matter of reflection, I really cannot tell.

' Can't you, Mary, and Edith, recollect something of the
same kind, though you may not think so much of it as I
do now ?

' May the day come for all of us, of which Easter is the
promise, when that first spring may return to us, and a
sweetness which cannot die may gladden our garden.
' Ever yours affectionately,

John H. Newman.'

I may add another quite simple letter to the twin sisters,
Helen and Mary Church, dated on his own birthday in 1878,
and wishing them joy on theirs :

' The Oratory : Feb. 21st, 187b".

' My dear Helen and Mary, — How shall I best show
kindness to you on your birthday ?

' It is by wishing and praying that year by year you may
grow more and more in God's favour and in inward peace, —
in an equanimity and cheerfulness under all circumstances
which is the fruit of faith, and a devotion which finds no duties
difficult, for it is inspired by love.

' This I do with all my heart, and am,
' My dear children.

Very affectionately yours,

John H. Newman.'

Much quiet humour is found in letters to intimate friends,
and his sense of fun is apparent in many which are not
humorous. When Mr. John Pollen lends him a novel which
takes his fancy, Newman describes in a letter how he is
ashamed to find that he wakes up at night laughing at the
remembrance of it. ' I condole with you,' he writes to the
same correspondent in 1 860, ' both on your fortieth birthday
and your accident to your face, for I have undergone both of
them — the latter when I was at school, running against a
wall in the dark, and I remember the shock to this day.'
When Ambrose St. John urges him to write some verses on
Purgatory, Newman sends him from Dublin the beautiful lines
beginning ' Help, Lord, the souls that Thou hast made,' with
the following explanation :

320 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

'6 Harcourl Street: Jan. gih, 1S57.

' My dear A., — I am hardly recovered from my seasickness
even now. I have generally found this a state favourable to
versifying. Philosophers, like yourself, must explain why.
Various of the Lyras were written in this state. Accord-
ingly, I have written the Purgatory verses which you asked
me for. Perhaps you will say they do not do justice to my
seasickness. You will see, I have observed your wish of having
a repetition verse.

' Ever yours affly.,

J. H. N.'

What Dean Church has called his ' naturalness ' is a
marked feature in some of the letters. He chaffs his intimate
friends familiarly. He writes to Henry Wilberforce, who in
1856 was acquiring the editor's professional manner in his
editorial notes to the Catholic Standard -.

' r candidly say I think your puffs of yourself i)ifra dig.,
and have felt it a very long while : e.g. " We were the first
to state that the Conference is to meet early in March
(1856)" — "As we said last week" — "Our important papers
from Kamtschatka " — " That great man, our correspondent at
Timbuctoo" — "the only Catholic English paper" — as the
Morning Chronicle says, the only " exclusive information." '

Writing to Ambrose St. John in the same year on his

birthday, he thus begins his letter :

'July 3rd, 1856.

' My poor old man, — Yes, I congratulate you on being
between, what is it, 50 or 60 ? No, only 40 or 50. My best
congratulations that life is now so mature. May your shadow
never be less, and your pocket never so empty ! But why are
you always born on days when my Mass is engaged .-• I
shall say Mass for you to-morrow and Monday.'

Again, in 1864, when Father Ambrose, having sprained
his wrist and undergone other troubles, talks of a holiday
in Switzerland :

' I rejoice,' Newman writes, ' to find that \ou write so
well — but don't presume. You won't be content without
some new accident. You forget you are an old man. In
one year (from your volatility, most unsuitable at your time
of life) you have broken your ribs and smashed your wrist.
This is the only difficulty I have in your going to Lucerne.
You will be clambering a mountain, bursting your lungs,

LIFE AT THE ORATORY 321

cracking your chest, twisting your ankles, and squashing
your face — and your nieces will have to pick you up. If you
will not do this, I shall rejoice at your going to Lucerne.'

When Henry Wilberforce wanted Ambrose St. John to
join him in a voyage to Jamaica in 1 871, with a view to
benefiting his health, Newman thus conveyed to Wilberforce
his friend's reply to the proposal :

' Ambrose won't. He is as obstinate as a pig. He says
he is quite well. And this is the beginning and the end of
it. He says if he goes somewhere, it shall be to Australia —
and he says Jamaica means Jericho. He stupefies and over-
powers me by his volubility.'

The Jesuit Fathers at Farm Street asked Newman to
preach at their Manchester church on the feast of the
Immaculate Conception in 1872, and he thus replied :

'The Oratory : Oct. 25th, 1872.

'St. Philip of Birmingham presents his best respects and
homage to Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, and,
desirous as he is in all respects to meet the wishes of his
dear Mother, he cannot grant her request in this instance.

' Because, he should be contravening one of the rules of
his own children, if he allowed them or one of them to
preach out of their own Church. They are a home people —
they do not preach — they only converse or discourse to their
own penitents and scholars.

' Besides, as to his present Superior at Birmingham, he
feels that he could not let him go to Manchester, without
letting him go to most places in England and Scotland. He
knows that the Father in question has declined a pressing
invitation of this kind for this very month, and he would not
place him in so ungracious a position as to be refusing
friends and benefactors, yet in the same breath to be accept-
ing an invitation elsewhere, however kind and flattering it
may be to that Father.

* St. Philip concludes with saying that he has set it all
right with St. Ignatius, whose vocation is altogether different
from that of his own sons ; and he is quite sure that the
good Jesuit Fathers will not think that any want of courtesy
is shown to Our Lad}', St. Ignatius, or the said Fathers, by
the said Superior's declining the compliment paid him, for
St. Philip takes the responsibility of it on himself.
' To the glorious and blessed Mary

from St. Philip Neri, Apostle of Rome.'
VOL. II. Y

322 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

A similar touch of humanity is often visible in Newman's
controversial correspondence. In the course of a protracted
argument with Canon Jenkins on the Roman claims, his
opponent sends a photograph which Newman thus gratefully
acknowledges :

' The Oratory : March 27, 1877.

' My dear Canon Jenkins, — I ought before now to have
thanked you for your photograph — which as a work of art is
very good, though I did not observe, till your letter pointed
out, the fault in the eyes. But I agree with you that photo-
graphists visit their unhappy sitters with too fierce a light
which makes them frown, or shut their eyes or otherwise
distort their features. But your own face shows nothing but
patience, or serenity, under the infliction. It is young too
for the age you tell me.

' I am quite ready to take your quartett or quintett. Do
you really think Celestine, Nestorius, Cyril, and John of
Antioch would have been a possible court of fuial appeal .''
No more than the Kilkenny cats.

' Yours most truly,

John H. Newman.'

And again to the same correspondent :

'Your letter is an important one, and requires careful
reading. If I don't say at once I assent to all it says, it is
but because I am losing my memory and forget to-morrow
what I have read to-day. Thus facts become like billiard
balls, which run away from you when you wish to get hold of
them.'

Writing to the late Canon MacColl he declines a suggested
controversy thus :

' Mr. A. B. is one of the most impertinent men that I ever
came across. Though very different, I think he is another
Golightly. ... To answer Mr. A. B. seriously is like fighting
with a blue bottle fly.'

Some of his notes already cited recall the fact that the
minds of the lower animals deeply interested him. He would
observe their doings with great curiosity. We have already
seen his interest in the emotions of Father Ambrose's
favourite cow. In 1852 Hope-Scott gave him a pony named
Charlie, which for many years Newman watched with grave
interest, and its well-being and performances are referred to

LIFE AT THE ORATORY 323

frequently in letters to those who were interested in the
animal. Charlie's death is thus chronicled in a letter to its
giver on December 6, 1866 :

'Charlie, the virtuous pony, which you gave us 14 years
ago, has at length departed this life. He continued his
active and useful habits up to last summer — benemeritus,
but not emeritus.

' Then he fell hopelessly stiff, lame, and miserable. His
mind was clear to the last — and, without losing his affection
for human kind, he commenced a lively, though, alas, not
lasting friendship with an impudent colt of a donkey — who
insulted him in his stiffness, and teased and tormented him
from one end of the field to the other. We cannot guess
his age, he was old when he came to us. He lies under two
sycamore trees, which will be, by their growth and beauty,
the living monument, or even transformation of a faithful
servant, while his spirit is in the limbo of quadrupeds. Rest
to his manes ! I suppose I may use the pagan word of a
horse.'

Newman was interested in the garden at Rednal. In
1 87 1 his cousin Mrs. Deane offered to send him a mulberry
and a filbert, which received his close attention.

* I thank you for your care about my mulberry,' he wrote.
' I am not at all impatient about it, so that I know it is
coming. Keep it another year, if you think better. I have
been trying to gain from books some hints about the treat-
ment of mulberry trees. Tell me anything you know about
it. Your travels, I fear, never lie in this direction — else, I
should like you to choose a place for it. Our cottage is at
Rednal, 7 or 8 miles from Birmingham — and our station is
Barnt Green, or Northfield, or Bromsgrove, on the Midland
line.

' Alas, our aspect is east — wc have a great deal of hot
summer sun in the morning and noon — and a great deal of
keen north-east wind in winter and spring. We have a sort
of wilderness, full of trees, which would protect the stranger,
and we could make a circle round it of grass — the soil is a
mass of decayed fir leaves with rock under. Does it require
depth ?

' Thank you too for the filbert. But give them a real
good nursery time in your climate, before they are trans-
planted into this.'

Alas ! the mulberry, loved by the gods, died young.

324 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' How the years run,' he writes on his birthday in 1873.
' I cannot believe a whole twelvemonth has passed since I
planted the poor little mulberry. We watched it with great
anxiety, but it would not rally.'

I have purposely placed first among my specimens of
Newman's characteristic letter-writing those which illustrate
the lighter and brighter side of his nature. Their comparative
rarity is as significant as the qualities they show. Life was
to him a most vivid reality in its every aspect, and he realised
its humorous side and the interest of small events. But what
was trivial, however keenly it was appreciated, never occupied
in his mind a place beyond its true proportion. Above all,
his attention was constantly fixed on the duties of the day, for
himself and for those who sought his advice. The great bulk
of his letters deal with serious problems or the events of life,
whether of public and general interest, or relating to indivi-
duals who consulted him. Quite simple letters in the great
crises of life and death seldom fail to have a beauty of their
own, and to show the delicacy of his sympathy.

Here is one to a domestic servant who had lost her
sister :

The Oratory : Jan. 9th, 1877.
' My dear Child, — Though my intention was engaged on
the 26th and I could not say Mass as you wished, I have not
forgotten, and I hope to say Mass for you to-morrow, the loth.
There is always a throng of intentions to be kept at this time.
To-day is the anniversary of Mrs. Wootten's death, and now
we are in great distress about Fr. Caswall. He cannot live,
tho' the time of his death is uncertain. Say a prayer for him.
' I am sorry that you should still be so far from well, but
God will bless and keep you in His own good way. We never
can trust Him too much. All things turn to good to them
who trust Him. I too know what it is to lose a sister. I
lost her 49 years ago, and, though so many years have past,
I still feel the pain.

' God bless and keep you this New Year.

' Yours most truly in Christ,

John H. Newman.'

When the venerable Mother Margaret Mary Hallahan —
Provincial of the Dominican sisters — died in 1868, he wrote
thus to one of her spiritual children, Sister Mary Gabriel :

LIFE AT THE ORATORY 325

' My dear Child, — What can I say to console you better
than what you must be saying to yourself, that your long
sorrow is over, and that now, after her intense sufferings, your
dear Mother is at rest, or rather in Heaven ?

' If ever there were persons who had cause to rejoice and
whose joy is but intermeddled with, not increased by the
words of a third person, you are they.

' What can you all desire more than that your Com-
munities should receive so special a consecration as is granted
to you in the agony and triumph of such a Mother ?

' It is a thought to raise and encourage you while you
live, and is the augury of many holy and happy deaths.

* Pray for an old man and believe me

' Ever yours affectionately in Xt.,

John H. Newman

of the Oratory.'

To another of the Dominican Sisters at Stone, of whose
life the doctors despaired, he wrote in 1876 :

* My dear Child, — I have not forgotten your needs, and
was saying Mass for you on the Anniversary of the day our
dear Lord took your Mother Margaret.

' I do not know how to be sorry, for you are going to what
is far better than anything here below, better far even than
the peaceful company of a holy sisterhood.

' God's Angel will be with you every step you take — and
I will try to help you with my best remembrances and sacred
wishes as you descend into the valley — but you are to be
envied not lamented over, because you are going to your own
Lord and God, your Light, your Treasure, and your Life.
Only pray for me in your place of peace and rest, for I at
most can be but a little time behind you.

' Yet a little and a very little while, and He that is to come
will come, and will not tarry.

' Ever yours affectionately in Xt.,

John H. Newman.'

To this letter of sympathy at the close of life, let us add
one sentence of sympathy, in life's dawn, with all its bright
possibilities. When the daughter of an old Oxford friend ^
was born on the Festival of the Transfiguration in i860, he
wrote to her father :

' I earnestly pray that the festival on which she was born
may overshadow her all through her life, and that she may

' W. G. Ward.

326 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

find it "good to be here" till that time of blessed transfigura-
tion when she will find from experience that it is better to be
in heaven.'

Here is another letter addressed to one who after some
trial and heart-searching had resolved to enter the religious
life:

To Miss Bathurst.

' Edgbdston : Nov. 8th, 1853.

' We must be very grateful for so good a beginning — it
comes of His Infinite Mercy who loves you as entirely and
wholly as if there were no other souls on earth to love or
take care of. You are choosing Him for your portion and
your All — and He is your All, and nothing will or can harm
you, though your enemy may try to frighten you. And then
the Angels will smile at each other and upon you at your
fears and troubles, and will say, " This poor little soul is in a
great taking, as if God were leaving her — but He is All-
faithful, and has loved her everlastingly, and will preserve
her to the end." '

' You always understand everything,' his sister had said
to him as a boy when he made her dry her tears ; and his in-
numerable letters of comfort to those who poured out their
troubles to him never strike a false note. Writing to nuns he
might urge considerations which only their constant medita-
tion on the unseen world enabled them so to realise as to find
comfort in them. An instance of this is the letter to Sister
Mary Gabriel quoted above. For those less strong in faith he
would choose other thoughts. But to all his friends he made
trouble more bearable by showing how truly he understood
it, and in some cases how he himself shared it. He never
suggested for comfort a thought which owing to the character
or circumstances of his friend might fail of effect. Let a few
of these letters be set down — taken almost at random.

To Mi.ss Holmes.

'July 3'. 'so-
' As time goes on, you will know yourself better and better.
Time does that for us, not only by the increase of experience,
but by the withdrawal of those natural assistances to devotion
and self-surrender which youth furnishes. When the spirits
are high and the mind fervent, though we may have wayward-
ness and perverseness which we have not afterwards, yet we

LIFE AT THE ORATORY 327

have something to battle against them. But when men get
old, as I do, then they see how little grace is in them, and how
much that seemed grace was but nature. Then the soul is left
to the lassitude, torpor, dejection, and coldness which is its real
state, with no natural impulses, affections or imaginations to
rouse it, and things which in youth seemed easy then become
difficult. Then it finds how little self-command it has, and
how little it can throw off the tempter, when he comes behind
and places it in a certain direction or position, or throws it
down, or places his foot upon it. Then it understands at
length its own nothingness ; not that it has less grace than it
had, but it has nothing but grace to aid it. It is the sign of
a Saint to g-j^oza ; common minds, even though they are in the
grace of God, dwindle, (i.e. seem to do so) as time goes on.
The energy of grace alone can make a soul strong in age.

' Do not then be cast down, if you, though not yet very
aged, feel less fervent than you did ten years ago — only let it
be a call on you to seek grace to supply nature, as well as to
overcome it. Put yourself more fully and utterly mto Mary's
hands, and she will nurse you, and bring you forward. She
will watch over you as a mother over a sick child.'

To Miss Munro.

'Aug. 24th, 1 87 1.

' It quite grieved me not to have seen you again after
Friday. I wish you had been so charitable as to have sent
for me on Saturday or Sunday.

* I wish you would not be a self tormentor. But who can
make you forget yourself, your short-comings and your
anxieties, and fix your thoughts on Him Who is All-true,
All-beautiful, and All-merciful, but He Himself? I cannot
do more than pray for it, and, with God's grace, I will say
Mass for you once a week for some time.

' You must look off from this world, from the world in the
Church, from what is so imperfect, and the earthen vessels in
which grace is stored, to the Fount of Grace Himself, and beg
Him to fill you with His own Presence. But I can do no
more than say Mass for you, and that I will.'

To THE Same.

* The Oratory : October 21, 1873.

' It is very kind in you to write to me. I always hear
about you with the greatest interest and anxiety, I know with
what a true heart you desire to serve God — and that what you
call your restlessness is only the consequence of that religious
desire.

328 LIFE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN

' Be sure that many others besides you feel that sadness,
that years pass away and no opening comes to them for
serving God, Be sure that I can sympathise with you,
for now for many years I have made attempts to break
through the obstacles which have been in my way, but
all in vain.

' One must submit oneself to God's loving will — and be
quieted by faith that what He wills for us is best. He has no
need of us — He only asks for our good desires.'

Though constant in sympathy he could rebuke when it
was necessary. * It would be the best of penances for you,' he
writes to one friend, ' to bind yourself to one place and to one
object. But sick people always dislike that remedy which is
best suited to their case. So at least my doctor tells me.'
And he could administer a gentle snub — as in this comment
on two essays by intimate lady friends who with some com-
placency sought his opinion on their work — ' ladies always
write with ease and grace — and such are the characteristics
of your and A. B.'s papers.'

His advice was by no means always spiritual advice.
Here is a letter to Miss Holmes on a projected literary
enterprise :

' As to writing about what one knows and what one does
not, e.g. I have written in " Loss and Gain " of persons and
things that I knew — but, if I were to attempt a fashionable
novel, I should make a fool of myself, because I do not know
men of fashion, and should have to draw on imagination or
on books. As to yourself I would not trust you, if you
attempted to describe a Common Room, or a Seminary, or
the Chinese court at Pekin ; but I think you capital in the
sketch of persons and things which from time to time you
have written to me, according to the place you have been in.
It is not to the purpose whether they are correct or not, or
representations of fact, (about which I can know nothing)
but they are clear, consistent, and persuasive, as pictures. . . .
And in your experience of fact, I include, not only what you
have seen yourself, but what you have on good authority
(as that of your Father) or what you read in books, if you
take the books as facts, not as informants — thus the lan